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PARIS REVISITED 



IN 1815, 



BY WAY OF BRUSSELS 



INCLCTDING A VTALK OVER THE 



FIELD OF BATTLE AT WATERLOO, 



BY JOHN SCOTT, 

AOTHOR OF A VISIT TO PAHIS IN 1814; AND EDITOR OF THE 
CHAMPION, A LONDON WEEKLY JOURNAL. 




PUBLISHED 

BY WELLS AND LILLY, BOSTON; AND M. CAREY, PHILADELPHU, 

SOLD BY A, r. GOODRICH, NEW-YORK; AND WEBSTEKS 

AND SKINNER, ALBANY. 

1816. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Introductioo on board a Margate Hoy : Englisli 
character of a watering place: description of a 
citizen and his family on an excursion to the 
Coast: meagre air of a Continental sea-port, 
compared with the appearance of Margate and 
Ramsgate : description of the company on board 
a Margate Hoy. Page 1 — 8 

CHAPTER II. 

Departure from Ramsgate : view from the sea : fall 
of night: tirst appearance of Ostend : two sol- 
diers' wives : the harbour of Ostend : deference 
shewn to British officers, and genera! respect 
paid to the English : this traced to their influx 
into these foreign places : responsibility incur- 
red by England : the inhabitants of Ostend, and 
the military stationed there. 9 — 1 7 

CHAPTER III. 

Canal boats to Bruges : pleasant circumstances at- 
tending the passage : description of the passen- 
gers on board a schuyt : an old organ-grinder 
and his lively grandson,— their playing on deck : 
description of what was going on below : wives 
of British sergeants and sergeant-majors : anec- 
dotes of two Dutch sailors : arrival at Bruges : 
botel-hook full of British names : meeting with a 
Flemish farmer : allusions to Flanders as fre- 
quently the theatre of wars : the boat from Bra- 



IV CONTENTS. 

ges to Ghent : a night party : a Flemish school- 
master : stoppage for refreshment : the morning : 
Belgian soldiers: spire of Giient : boys at the 
landing place. 18 — 29 

CHAPTER IV. 

Empty look of Ghent, and the Flemish towns i 
system of Buonaparte : his sale of a church at 
Utrecht : rise and fall of the Flemish cities ; dis- 
like between the inhabitants of Belgium and the 
Dutch : intentions of the rulers of the present 
day : popularity of the hereditary Prince of 
Orange ^ publick hankering after Buonaparte's 
system : tendencies to a much better feeling : 
regard for the English in the Netherlands. 

30—43 

CHAPTER V. 

Heavy rain in this country: description of the 
miserable carriages : self-complacency of an 
English servant : anecdote of an Irish officer: 
first ajjpearance of Brussels : the wood of Soig- 
nies : ill-managed hotel at Brussels : first view 
of the streets of Brussels full of recovering Brit- 
ish soldiers : the military hospital : general air 
of Brussels : its highly excited feeling : popular- 
ity of the Britisli military : affecting circumstan- 
ces increase the kindness of the people of Brus- 
sels : danger to virtue arising from a virtuous 
source : description of the females of Brussels : 
the system of female manners here : the park of 
Brussels : its interesting crowds : wounded offi- 
cers : fete of the King of the Netherlands : mix- 
ture of the soldiery of various nations: dreadful 
consequences of the military getting the U'lper 
hand: the military chHracter : description of 
Brussels, and the country around it, 44—65 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VI. 



The sounding of the bugle on the morning of the 
16th June: military opinions: description of 
the coUection of the troops, and of iheir march 
from Brussels: warm-hearted feeling of the 
town's-people: the mirch: passing by of the Duke 
of Wellington : first sound of the guns: the field 
of Qiiatre Bras : animation of the officers : the 
Duke of Wellington's appearance in the field : 
his conduct there : inflated behaviour of the 
French dragoons : anecdotes of the engage- 
ment: the retreat of the 17th: bravery of our 
officers : difference between the French and 
British soldier : battle of the 18th: Shaw, the 
Life Guardsmap : the Scotch Grays : the 92d: 
the courage of our troops requires much manage- 
ment on the part of the commander : the cavalry 
charges : anecdotes of the engagement : ferocity 
of the French to their prisoners : anecdote : 
death of Shaw : women found dead : the Duke 
of Wellington's feelings of confidence : the last 
struggle for victory: arrival of the Prussians: 
route of the French: the Duke's return to his 
head-quarters : his entrance into Brussels : de- 
scriijtion of the state of that city during the bat- 
tles : description of the road from the field : the 
zealous assistance afforded by all ranks of the 
people to the wounded : expression of the grati= 
tude due for this. 66—100 

CHAPTER VII. 

The publick interest in England as to all that re= 
lates to these battles : its causes : their glorious 
and decisive nature : the value of pu'olick aflec- 
iions : merits of the rival generals and their troops 



VI- CONTENTS. 

discussed : first visit to a field of battle : graves 
and destroyed farm-houses of the plain of Water- 
loo : the road from Brussels to the village : its 
appearance : the hamlet of Mont St. Jean : sell- 
ers of the fragments of the battle : the Welling- 
ton tree : the devastated condition of the farm 
of La Haye Samte : its orchard full of graves : 
the road to the French position : the House of 
La Belle Alliance: its coarse character : inscrip- 
tions on lis walls: walk along the French line 
/ to Hugouraont: its beautiful orchard wood : its 
shattered buildings : walk round by the British 
right: feeling on quitting the field : visit to the 
church at Waterloo : and the graves behind it: 
political reflections. 101 — 138 

CHAPTER VIIL 

A Belgian lady passenger in the Diligence to 
Mons : detachments of English on the road : 
anecdote of two Irishwomen : arrival at ,Mons : 
its fortifications : night-waik through the place 
•with the soldiers' wives : journey to Valenci- 
ennes : the village of Jemappe : arrival at Va- 
lenciennes before the gates were opened : its 
strength: wretched appearance of the country 
of France : its distressed villages : Prussian ca- 
valry on the road.: reflections on the misery 
caused by war: the disbanded French soldiers 
seen on the road : the influence of Buonaparte's 
military system on the character of France : a 
young French soldier: dialogue with two High- 
landers in Peronne: devastations on the road 
from PeroBDe to Paris. 139—154 



eONTENTS. VII 



CHAPTER IX. 



Arrival at the barrier of Paris : suggestions of the 
alteration that had taken place in regard to the 
circumstances of France : British sentinels at 
the harriers : British soldiers in the streets : dis- 
composed state of feeling and opinion in Paris : 
dialogue in a bo,at: fete at St. Cloud: English 
Horse Guards superintending the people : a co- 
lumn of British infantry in the woods : piquets on 
the road : British guards on the Thuilleries : on 
the Palais Royal : remarkable features of the 
Palais Royal : military of all nations meet there : 
Parisian gambling-houses : the Palais Royal all 
for Buonaparte : quarrels between the Prussians 
and the French : Parisian stories : promenade 
of Coblentz : picturesque views from the garden 
of the Thuilleries : the dancers in the garden : the 
King's appearance at a window, and the people's 
enthusiastick behaviour : the French national 
character : contrast between the British and the 
French in the gardens : two Highland soldiers : 
violence used to a Frenchman who expressed 
hatred to the King : the caricatures in Paris : the 
applause of the air of Vive Heiiri Quatre in the 
theatres : two ballad singers : inquiry into the 
political sentiments of the French : sketch of the 
condition of Lefebvre Desnouettes under the Im- 
perial government, and of his reduction under 
the Bourbons : — ^-the ruin qf all this class : 
source of the attachment of the military to 
Buonaparte : falsehoods current in the societies 
of the capital. 155 — 186 

CHAPTER X. 

Doubts as to the determination of the Allies it4 
regard to the Louvre : enormity of the French 



I ) 

Viii * CONTENTS. 



system of spoliation t the iicpes and claims of the 
French publick: cbuduptofthe P ossians : vaunt- 
ings of the French: general ini<^rfst excited as 
to the fate of the Louvre, exertions of the vari- 
ous stgrtes to recover their pictures, &c. : — French 
ministry's reluciance to listen to applications : 
Taileyrand's taunting answer to Canova: deter- 
mination of the powers to exert force : renewed 
applications to the Fiesiich government: en- 
trance of an English guard into the Louvre : 
strarsge connoisseurs in the Louvre : impressive 
spectacle of taking posstssion of the gallery : the 
breaking up of the collection . the French kept 
out of the Louvre v\hile foreigners were admit- 
ted : violent rgitation oi the French publick : re- 
ports that Efigland was to take some of the 
statues : crowding to see the pictures before 
their dis!)ers30ii : removal of the Transfiguration: 
French female stu(ieuts : English females in the 
Louvre : residue of pictures left to the Gallery : 
removal of the statues : removal of the horses 
on the arch in the Place Carousel : extreme 
anger of the French : particularly of the losses 
sustained by France in her various publick es- 
tablishments of works of art, scientifick specimens 
and curiosities: lists of the statues and other 
sculptures seized by Buonaparte in 1797 : list of 
the pictures seized by him: list of the MSS. 
books, curiosities, &:c. the propriety of the res- 
torations considered as a mixed question of poli- 
ilcal and moral justice, and good taste. 187 — 236 

CHAPTER XL 

Unsatisfactory and uncertain political state of 
France : political remarks on the Bourbons : on 
Buonaparte : on the Allies : conclusion. 237 — 244 



1 

i 



PAEIS REVISITED, 



IN 1815. 



CHAPTER I. 



Xo commence the account of my excursion as 
the excursion itself commenced, 1 must invite the 
reader on board a Margate Hoy. A more dignified 
starting point may easily be fancied ; but none, pro- 
bably, would so well answer the desirable purpose 
of exciting attention to the most striking peculiari- 
ties of our own country, just as we are on the point 
of encountering the features of one that is foreign. 
We may ransack the treatises of England's consti- 
tutional writers from one end to the other ; we 
may explore the mysteries and complications of 
her commerce and finance, — but these will not af- 
ford any one national lineament so characteristical- 
lyand exclusively her own as a crowded Watering 
Place, situated within a moderate distance of the 
metropolis. As belonging to the place itself, must, 
of course, be included, the skilful and tempting pro- 
cesses of conveyance to and fro, as well as tha 
elaborate organization of its customs and amuse- 
ments, and the extensive assortment of conditions, 
tempers, and tastes, presented by its company. 

There is no counterpart to this curious spectacle 
in any history of former times, or of other people. 
Nothing like it either has been seen, or is to be seen, 
But amongst ourselves at the present period. The 

2 



display of human intellect, the glories of war, the 
pomps of courts, and the luxuries of the rich, offer 
no very strong contrasts between the different ages 
and places of the world. Mankind have generally 
possessed some good poets, and many bad ones : 
the revels of palaces were as well known to the 
people of antiquity, as to the living generation, to 
set any example but a proper one : and the elegant 
caprices of a Grecian Beauty, and the gratifica- 
tions of a Roman Bmi Vivant do not merit the con- 
tempt even of these enlightened days of music- 
masters, millinery, and made-dishes. — But neither 
Greece nor Rome, can furnish us with a parallel to 
the enjoyment of an elderly London shop-keeper, — 
who, for eleven months of the year, looks at brick 
walls, rises early in the morning to arrange his 
shelves, and sits up late at night to post liis ledger,—- 
escaped, with the gladness of a young bird, for a 
^eek or two, to stand on a chalk cliff and watch 
the waves of the sea, to ask questions about the 
tides of the fishermen, discuss the crops oX grass 
and turnips with the farmers, and finish the day, 
thus devoted to nature, with half-crown loo at the 
libraries ! — What edification and entertainment 
Jiave we lost, inasmuch as this illustration of na- 
tional manners and individual humour, did not 
exist in Steele's time to furnish suggestions to be 
improved hj his exquisite genius ! The beauty of 
the exhibition consists in what some may be apt 
to imagine it wants,^ — a rich truth to nature, and a 
strong marking of specifick traits. The citizen, 
and the citizen's lady, are as entirely native in 
the bathing machine, as ia the counting-house, or 
the back parlour. The straw hat with enormoua 
brims, the showy umbrella held against the sun, 
the inordinate appetite for every thing rural, are 
20 many indications of the confinement of Cheap- 
^ide : — they have not a feeling for the country that 



3 

tlpe^ not spring from, and suggest, a recollection of 
the city. The little boy by their side is made to 
walk with a cane, because people ought to look 
respectable when aAvay from home. The bow is 
carefully careless, because customers are nobody 
more than any body else here. The waiter is 
called in a stern tone, not from ill nature, but be- 
cause those that can afford to pay their bill should 
be attended to, without distinction of persons. 
Their most distinguishing symptoms, however, are, 
a remarkable quickness of notice and accwacy of 
information relative to everj^ thing by which they 
are surrounded. Those who have ridiculed the 
emigrants from the capital, as ill-informed and 
blundering, concerning what is foreign to the track 
of their own habits and occupations, are inaccurate 
observers, and unqualified to relish what is nicest 
in character. A London family, that has been ac- 
customed to niake a yearly voyage to Margate, will 
be found, even. to the young ladies that are released 
from boarding-school for the vacation, perfectly 
acquainted with the cant as well as technical 
names, given by the sailors to every turn of the 
river and every point of its banks. They vvill 
cause one who has only been to the East Indies as 
a passenger, to blush for his ignorance of marine 
matters, as they taikof Sea-reacli, and Long-reach; 
—they well know when to look with the glass for 
the gibbets ;— they smile in pity if you call a sloop 
a ship, or seem puzzled when you hear that you are 
going at the rate of six knots. They eat unceas- 
ingly to vanquish any suspicion of being " affected 
by the motion;" but their great triumph is, when 
the crew come round to collect money from those 
despised beings who have not before seen the Nare 
light ! Papa, who is an old Margate-man^ is still 
more nautically erudite. He is ostentatiously fa- 
miliar with the captain; puts on his night-cap 



pretty early in the afternoon, and talks with a 
wink of turning in : — he, every now and then, 
throws his eye from the compass in the binnacle to 
the vane on the mast-head, — and recommends a 
lady with a pale face to go to the leeward-side of 
the vessel, but to take care of the boom when she 
jibes. Moreover, he is equally loquacious and ex- 
pert when he is fairly landed in Kent, and comes in 
contact with the labourers in the fields. He sees, 
in a moment, the promise of the young wheats, — 
regrets that the black crops are likely to be scanty, 
—-and praises, in the terms of a horse-dealer, the 
Dear Wheeler of the stage-coach that goes past, 
though he can perceive, with half an eye, that the 
poor thing's feet are tender through bad shoeing. 

I dwell upon this portrait (perhaps too long) be- 
cause, as I have before observed, it is one tho- 
roughly and solely English : — it is no where else to 
be met with, and it is to be traced to qualities of 
national condition, indicating a degree of general 
advancement, that has not yet been attained else- 
where. I have been tempted to the description, in 
consequence of being forcibly impressed with the 
meagre, quiet, and empty air of the Continental 
Sea-port at which I arrived, comparing it with the 
bustling, jocund, full appearance of that which I 
had left but a few hours before. Large houses, 
scantily occupied ; gloomy unfurnished shops, si- 
lent streets, a sleepy, poor aspect characterize 
Ostend. At Margate and Ramsgate, how different 
was the general eflfect ! There every thing seemed 
overflowing ; the demand went far beyond thie 
means of accommodation, instead of lagging behind 
them; — business supplied pleasure, and pleasure 
gave circulation and vigour to business. It is only 
in England, and but lately there, that the inter- 
mingling of the different orders of society, and the 
intermeddling of one class of people with the pro- 



per habits of others, which constitute the life of a 
watering place, could occur. A very long and 
highly prosperous settlement of national institu- 
tions, and personal pursuits, is necessary, before 
any great number of individuals can have the pow- 
er so to quit for a time their natural track, and 
respite their routine tasks : and an active, stout, 
and independent turn of thinking can alone ac- 
count for the inclination to do so. 

A German or a Frenchman landing at a spot in 
England such as has been described, and uninform- 
ed of its nature, could only suppose, that, in the 
country to which he had come, the rich and the 
poor, the fortunate and the miserable, were arrang- 
ed so as to inhabit separate towns, and that he 
had happened to debark at a place appropriated to 
those who had drawn the luckiest casualties in the 
lottery of existence. Considering what he has 
quitted, he cannot but be greatly surprised, when 
he learns that the swarm before him is a medley 
formed of every description of the nation ; that the 
greater proportion of it is composed of persons of 
the middle ranks, who come from considerable dis- 
tances, not more influenced by fashion, than com- 
petent to obey its dictates. A scene so utterly 
new to him, intimating a publick union, opulence, 
and intelligence, so far beyond what he has been 
accustomed to see the signs of, cannot but give 
him a high notion of the land on which he has just 
stepped, and is calculated to justify in his opinion 
all the accounts of her wealth, power, and spirit, 
which may have previously reached his ear. 

But to return to our Margate Hoy, that we may 
prosecute our voyage. A party of commercial men 
occupied the principal table in the cabin, and 
amused themselves, after they had finished a sump- 
tuous dinner and desert, which they brought on 
board nicely packed, with playing at five shilling 



whist, aail betiing highly on the various points Of 
the game. Their iced port, and cant phrases, — 
their pine-appJes, and city proverbs, assortetl curi- 
ously. A gentleman, who lost ten guineas with 
the greatest carelessness, turned sharply round, af- 
ter laying down a bank note for live pounds before 
the v^'ianer, to beg of a person, whom he heard 
speak of going from Ranisgate to Ostend, to take 
over for him a small sample of sewing cottons,— 
" But, for God's sake," said he, " be very particular 
to explaining at the custom-house, that they are 
only samples, for otherwise I shall be put to the 
expense of a penny a-piece on the dozen balls, as 
harbour duty!" 

An active, smart sailor, the upper leathers of 
whose shoes scarcely covered his toes, and whose 
black silk handkerchief was put on loosely, to shew 
his brown, but handsome throat, sat observing this 
party of players, with looks that shewed how ea- 
gerly he sympathized with the chances of the game, 
and how well inclined he was to share in the haz- 
ards of the adventure. He was a man turned of 
forty, but had all the light brisk air of sea foppery, 
which may often be observed in our tars, united 
with the indications of hardy habits, simple minds, 
and desperate spirits. He was returning, I found, 
to Margate, to see his wife and children, after an 
absence of ten years. He had belonged originally 
to one of the hoys, and soon became possessed of 
a boat of his own, but fell into rough hands, in con- 
sequence, as he said, with an arch wink, '•'■ of taking 
a trip across >, to fetch the old women a drop of ginJ^ 
The Excise seized his boat, its cargo, and him- 
self: he lost four hundred and fifty pounds, which 
he had saved, and was sent on board a man of v^ar. 
He had been for several years cruizing on the 
American coast, and described pithily, but simply, 
the miseries of a cold unhealthy station. His ship 



had lost many of its men, and, as he said tins, bis 
own lungs were torn with a dry cough, which bo- 
ded very fatally. It was impossible to hear this 
portentous signal, to look at the intelligent but dis- 
solute and fierce countenance of the man, and lis- 
ten to his stoiy, told in quaint, sometimes highly 
comick, and always very forcible language,™~with- 
out questioning, with feelings of regret, the value 
of that national system, to wkich he had become 
an unfortunate victim. Herj was an individual 
utterly ruined in principles, constitution, and cir- 
cumstances. He spoke bitterly of the treatment 
of the seamen by their officers, prophesied that our 
navy had seen its best days, and, while he shewed 
the most thorough contempt for the Americans, 
whom he described as cowards and lubbers, exul- 
ted in the idea that they were likely to be strength- 
ened ag&icst England by multitudes of prime En- 
glish sailors, who would seize with avidity any 
opportunity to escape from the lash, and low wa- 
ges. It was quite clear that this man's testimony 
w^as strongly tinctured with the prejudices and va- 
rious improper feelings of an irregular and unprin- 
cipled miod, composed of violent dispositions, and 
disappointed hopes ; but it is mere self-deception 
to set down as unv/orthy of notice all that may 
drop, as complaint or denunciation, from one so 
circumstanced. Those who exercise power, such 
is human nature, are quite as liable to fall into er- 
rour as these who are the objects of its exercise ; 
and the improprieties of the former are both the 
most dangerous, and the. most intolerable. The 
downfall of great states has usually been produced 
by a disregard of the sources of alienation, and the 
feeders of discontent, — by a bigotted and harsh ob- 
stinacy in favour of every thing that bears the port 
of authority and the features of prescription, heed- 
less of their natural tendencies to corruption and 
abuse. 



8 

Not the least characteristick of the passengers 
tvere two elderly women, who came together. 
They each carried a lap-dog, a well stocked and 
well arranged basket, and a stone bottle, the con- 
tents of which it would be impertinent to examine. 
The magnificent superfluity of their preparation, 
the skill and care of its adjustment, betokening 
luxurious tastes, — and the pampered appearance of 
their fourfooted friends, contrasted oddly with their 
obstinate rejection of the proffered assistance of the 
porters to carry on boai'd their weighty delicacies. 
Rather than pay three-pence to one of the men on 
the quays, they stumbled, and panted, and pushed, 
under a load which was heavier than it need to 
have been by at least five shillings, laid out in ham 
and mutton pies, more than the voyage required. 
A genteel lady and her husband, w ho took a cold 
fowl from the footman attending them, were rescu- 
ed from the dilemma into which their culpable 
heedlessness as to such essential matters had in- 
volved them, by the loan ^f a little salt, very 
promptly extended from these more thoughtful ca- 
terers. It was delightful to observe the hasty car- 
riage of good-will, mingled with some natural pride, 
and not a little self-approbation, with which these 
benevolent persons went at once to the precise 
corner where lurked the identical paper parcel : 
having found it, they held forth its treasure w^ith an 
air and mien full of the dignity that attends allevi- 
ating the effects of the improvidence of ourfellow- 
ereatures. This dignity is chiefly felt, when the 
objects of our bounty (as in the present case)— 
liave pretensions in some respects higher tlian oim 
own. 



CHAPTER IL 

Ramsgate is understood to be the most eli- 
gible point of departure for Ostend. The trip 
to Brussels, going by one of the Hoys from Lon- 
don to the former place, or to Margate, and taking 
advantage of the beautiful canal navigation from 
Ostend to Ghent, is highly pleasant, and very 
easy, and is not necessarily attended with much 
expense. But those who go this way to Paris, 
find the journey from Brussels both long and ex- 
pensive. 

The view of Ramsgate, as the packet left its 
noble harbour, and stretched out across the spa- 
cious blue sea, under the weight of a sumraei" 
breeze, was very beautiful. The handsome houses 
scattered over the cliffs, the walking and riding 
parties on the sands, the rows of white bathing 
machines, formed an interesting and pleasing pic- 
ture. The vessel rippled the transparent water 
as she inclined easily on her way. By degrees 
the smaller features of England became less dis- 
tinct, and, as they gradually faded, afforded the 
means of calculating the progress we were mak- 
ing. As we advanced further from the land, more 
of it opened on our sight : the Downs presented a 
rich and animating throng of masts ; the bold 
headlands threw themselves against the waves to 
the north and to the south of us ; — our country ap- 
peared " stoutly ramparted with rocks," and the 
light shadowy sails, that gleamed and shifted 
around this sublime barrier, might, with but little 
help from a poetick imagination, be deemed the 
" Guardian spirits of the isle," 

The first shade of the evening rendered it doubt- 
ful whether it was the gloom or the distance, that 



10 

melted down the outlines of the earth iato the 
slight and shifting tracery of the air and the ocean. 
By an instinctive impulse, our eyes which had 
hitherto been directed behind the vessel, were now 
fixed in the direction she ^as proceeding, — in 
haste to discover, since the curtain had dropped 
on England, vfhat new cceoe was about to be dis- 
closed. The night, bov/ever, fell thickly on our 
view,' — and it was in the hazy, cold light of a very 
early hour of the fi)llowing morning, that I per- 
ceived the round, sulky looking bent hillocks, 
whose dwartish elevation told us we were ap- 
proaching the port of Ostend. Its light-house was 
just distinguishable, rising from the blank flatness 
of the apparently interminable coast. As the day 
advanced, the houses of the town shewed them- 
selves; but they seemed to look forth scantily and 
with jealousy, from within the bulky projections of 
grass and stone that denoted its fortitications. We 
waited impatiently for the hoisting of the flag at 
the encl of the wooden pier, which is the signal 
that the tide serves for entering a most incon" 
venient and dangerous harbour. 

The passengers in the packet were chiefly per- 
sons connected with the British army, called over 
in consequence of the arrangements necessary after 
the great battles. Before the morning had assumed 
its fresh cheerful aspect, and while the heaviness 
and damps of night 3'^^ei; lowered on its brow and 
chilled its iofloeace, my attention was attracted to 
two women, the wives of soldiers who had been 
■wounded, and who v/ere going to Brussels to see 
their husbands. They had apparently squatted 
out, in the same attitude, and with the same un- 
moved looks, the whole of the hours that I had 
passed below. As I left them, so 1 found them. 
Their natures had become, under the constant ac- 
tioa of coarse circumstances, callous, cold, and 



11 

stiSr,-~"what (lie body becomes wlien it is weather- 
beaten. I asked them if tliey had spent the night 

on deck ? Tiiey .said ihey had ; — they believed 
there vv'as uot rooni below. I inquired if they 
had not felt it co':;:! ? ■' No Sir/'— one of them 
replied in a sllglit taiie,— and the other, moving 
her slioolders, and making a sleepy sound with her 
■breath, drew her cloak mors c'osely around her. 
There was somsthijig more tooching in this iosen- 
sibiii ty to hardships, thasi ia any common suscep- 
tibility to them. It seemed more melancholy that 
we should lose the faculty of feeling evil when it 
pressed upon us, than that we should groan under its 
■weight. The ioeqiiallty of human condition -was 
more affectingly exempiified in the torpor of these 
poor Avomen, contrasted with the artificial seasibi» 
iities and idle affectations of so many of theii' fellow- 
creatures, than it could .be by any lively com- 
plaint of wretchedness. 

The signal was given, and we rapidly approach- 
ed Ostend. Its houseSj roofed with tiles, give it 
an English character, %o that the strong impression 
made by the foreign aspect of Dieppe, which I 
have described in another work, was not now- eX" 
perienced. The boatmen who joined the^ crew 
had nothing about Iheni of the grotesque look of 
the French pilots; they were open faced, well 
dressed, and well made fellows. The women on 
the pier seemed simpler in their general air than 
those which last year constituted my first specimen 
of French females in their own country. These 
early inttications of a prepossessing nature were 
pleasingly corroborated when I saw more of the 
Netherlands. 

The harbour was full of English transports : sol- 
diers of the same nation were dislinguishable by 
their red coats, v/alkiiig on the ramparts, and stand- 
ing as loiterers on the beach. On the quays, En- 
t 



12 

glish cannon-balls were piled in large pyramidical 

knasses. " I am a British officer," said one of our 
party as we came up to the custom-house ; — the 
people there immediately touched their hats, and 
we passed on with our trunks unopened and un- 
stopped. These talismanick words operated with 
the same efficacy through the whole of the Nether- 
lands. When the baggage of a crowd of passen- 
gers arrived at the first frowning barrier of each of 
the several fortified towns on the road to Brussels, 
the individuals, appointed to perform this duty, 
began a busy inspection of boxes, bundles, and 
frequently of persons : — this operation, accustomed 
as we are to a process of a similar nature at some 
of our towns on the coast, has always an unpleasant 
look with It to an English eye, and more particu- 
larly so when it occurs at inland places, and is 
exercised on the few small articles carried by the 
country-people in their short journies. In behalf 
of the general restraints and strong inflictions of 
the arm of the law, the well being of society 
conciliates every reasonable mind ; but extreme 
disgust and sharp animosity^ exist amongst the 
pubiick of England against the petty meddling 
of its fingers^ — and this disposition is by no 
means to be deplored, in the course, however, 
of these irksome examinations, the authority and 
suspicion of the inspectors were instantaneously 
transformed into the signs of implicit confidence 
and profound respect, at the intimation that they 
were laying hands on the trunk or portmanteau of 
an English officer. It was immediately released 
from the forms to which the others were compelled 
to submit, and this privilege was extended to ail 
that claimed to be joined in its company. The 
inhabitants, delayed and obstructed, saw their visi- 
tors pass on before them as if superiour to all regu- 
lations. It was sufficiently plain that t^ie habitual 



13 

observation of this courtesy and deference, paid to 
our countrymen, had excited and diffused the most 
lofty notions of our country. The oflBcers of other 
nations, in alliance with the king of the Nether- 
lands, had not any thing like the same degree of 
favour shewn to them : — but the word English was 
every where a passport and a protection : it was 
an admission to what was generally concealed, a 
title to what was generally denied, an excuse for 
what might be irregular, an introduction to every 
one's intimacy, and a certain appeal to every one 
for assistance and kindness. 

Much of this disposition, so pleasant and profit- 
able to British travellers, is to be traced to their 
immense influx into these foreign places ; a circum- 
stance which, added to the belief which is universal- 
ly entertained on the continent, of England's absorb- 
ing share and coramandisig influence in all the 
political transactions of Europe, — seemed to give 
the Belgians an amazed sense of the strength and 
splendour of the people, of whose means they 
received so large and superb a specimen. It cer- 
tainly w^as calculated to strike their feelings in this 
way, to hear all their inn-yards re-echoing with the 
wheels of British equipages, and the strange voices 
of British servants; to see their roijds choaked 
and their streets crowded with a pouring tide of 
British visitors, most of them sufficiently well 
informed to speak the language of those amongst 
whom they had come,— and superiour to all about 
them in the arrangement and quality of their con- 
veniences; bearing themselves with an inde'.^en- 
dence of manner, and decisive air, that gave the 
assurance of persona! respectability, and vouched 
for the poA\er to remunerate the attentions and ser- 
vices which they rather peremptorily demanded. 
The cause of this visiting on so large a scale, was 
well known to involve no motives of gain or 

3 



14 

necessity, but to arise from a publick enthusiasm 
relative to the grand military achievements, the 
pride as well as the expense of which were acknow- 
ledged chietly to belong to our nation. The aw- 
fulness of these had in a great measure smitten the 
faculties of the people amongst whom thfy had 
occurred, but it had roused the spirits and kindled 
the animation of the English. Every one who has 
lately been abroad must have observed the very 
distinguished estimation in which circumstances 
have caused the British name and character to he 
held; and the vindictive irritation of the French 
against us, and their ignorant abuse, form a testi- 
mony coinciding with the evidence of the kind- 
ness and respect shewn by others. 

But while we cherish the exultation thus very 
naturally excited, we ought to bethink ourselves 
of the responsibility which our impetuous inter- 
ference in European politicks, the' remarkable ac- 
complishment of our wishes, and the success of our 
exertions, have imposed. Amidst much that was 
disastrous and malignant iii the disorders that have 
been afflicting the world, there were many excel- 
lent tendencies to publick improvement, which men 
had the sagacity to perceive and the wisdom to 
applaud, though they were unfortunately encom- 
passed, and even connected with what was hateful 
and mischievous. The principal agents in the 
destruction of the bad, are called upon to disiin- 
guish properly in their work. If they do not, the 
honour and praise which have been awarded them 
in the hour of triumph, will be turned to infamy 
and execration when, in calmer moments, it is dis- 
covered, that they have crushed all that gave hope 
for the future when they struck down what was 
presently irksome. He has not accurately observed 
the nature of the publick feeling of the nations of 
Europe towards England, who is not convinced 



15 

that an admiration of free institutions, in the pos- 
session of which she is justly Relieved to he in 
advance of other states, is the great source of the 
res'ject i>aid to her name and people. To her 
attainments in this way they all look with an eai^ 
nest eye of desire; her liberal ?ind enlightened 
endeavours to extend the blessings which she 
enjoys and prizes, are what all expect and demand 
from her. If men are disaf>pointed in these their 
hopes; if they find her following up the display of 
her transcendant strength by encouraging and abet- 
ting the re-imj>osition of what they know to be im- 
becile, odious, and unjust, — the whole of her won- 
derful exertions will be placed to the account of a 
sordid and selfish spirit, and the few virulent tra- 
ducers of her fame, whose murmuring spitefulness 
is now drowned in the cheering of disenthralled 
kingdoms, will be joined by the unanimous out- 
cries of mankind, thus infamously deceived and 
fatally abused. That British statesman can have 
no proper feeling of his country's policy and duty, 
who is not keenly alive to the force of the appeal 
lately made in the name of a people, — it does not 
much signify through what organ, — " We do not 
•wish to be more free than England, but we would 
not willingly be less !" This address, while it is 
a glorious testimony to the value of miat England 
is at this moment, may soon become, and for ever 
remain, a bitter reproach of the bad principle, by 
which she guided her influence on the greatest 
crisis for the general interests of society, the issue 
of which history will probably have to record. A 
Parisian who was obstinately skeptical about the 
superiority of our army at Waterloo, and seemed 
very much inclined, like many of his countrymen, 
to dispute the defeat of France,— was nevertheless 
surprised into a rapturous exclamation in favour of 
our island- in consequence of an accidental remark 



16 

made in his hearing, that she gave to every pri- 
soner the right of demanding a trial ; and that her 
newspapers printed what they pleased, whether it 
pleased her rulers or not. In this, it must be con- 
fessed, he shewed truer notions than one usually 
meets with scattered about that capita! ; but an 
involuntary testimony from such a quarter ought to 
have great weight. It is not pleasant to know, 
that the insignia of British honours, the esteemed 
rewards of British heroes, and the stimulating 
inducements of our country's noblest ambition, 
which, in justice to those v/hose pride they are, 
should never be attached but to worth, have been 
disgraced and depreciated by their presentation to 
an individual, whose unworthiness to receive such 
a gift is most strikingly exposed by that which was 
very mistakenly regarded as his only claim to it,— 
namely, the station of royalty, which he has ren- 
dered a curse to his subjects, and a reproach to the 
name of government.* 

Ostend seemed to owe all its symptoms of life to 
the British troops that occupied it as a depot of 
army stores, formed on the point of their debarka- 
tion. Nothing can be imagined more dull and 
cheerless than its own proper aspect, — but the peo- 
ple seemed cordial and pleasant in their manners. 
Their liveliness looks like the result of a frank 
simplicity of character; it is thus relieved from 
that semblance of grimace and trick which has 
so disagreeable an effect in the manifestations of 
French gayety. This commendation applies gene- 
rally to the Netherlands : the appearance of its 
inhabitants is certainly very much in their favour : 

* One cannot admire the taste of those Englishmen, who think 
themselves honoured by displaying the gaudy orders of that merit, 
which finds ftivour in the eyes of Ferdinand of Spain : and still 
less can one admire the taste of those Englishmen who made Fer- 
dinand (^ Spain a Cprapanion of British Knights. 



It 

good figures, fine complexions, and pretty female 
faces, are combined with a winning open expres- 
sion, the assurance (in which a neighbouring nation 
is so very deficient) that the sentiment corresponds 
with the external symbol. 

At the town-house the guards were composed of 
British troops ; the spacious market-place was filled 
with groups of our soldiers ; and, in the Cafe's, the 
officers were^^ lounging playing at dominos. The 
whole of this scene gave one an unpleasant idea of 
the languor and cheerless dissipation that belong 
to the inactive part of a military life. The weary 
task of killing time was never brought so thoroughly 
home to my conception, and never so strongly 
interested my commiseration, as by the appearance 
of these individuals belonging to straggling and 
detached parties of our army, quartered in this 
corner of a foreign country, and doomed to find 
resources to get over the long days, out of the mo- 
notonous and poor presentar^ns of a Flemish sea 
port. 



3^ 



18 



CHAPTER III. 

A large commodious boat, iStted up expressly" 
for passengers, goes up the superb canal from 
Ostend to Bruges, the distance being about twelve 
miles : the fare is very trifling. Strangers from 
England who cannot here procure those conve- 
niences for travelling by land which they expect 
and desire from being accustomed to the complete 
arrangements of their own country, may consider 
themselves very fortunate in having the opportu- 
nity of embracing this most agreeable mode of 
conveyance by water. Besides, these canal jour- 
nies in the Low Countries are characteristick of 
the place; and the elegant cabins, and spacious 
decks of the Schuy ts, afford the means of that easy 
and intimate communication w^ith the people, 
which is so valuable and pleasant to a traveller. 

It was a beautiful summer evening when we 
started from a vast lock about a mile from Ostend : 
and, what with the fineness of the weather, the 
luxuriance of the surrounding vegetation, and the 
number and gayety of a very respectable company, 
the scene formed a refreshing contrast to the pre- 
vious part of our expedition, which consisted of a 
night and day spent at sea on board a close packet. 
The canal here is very broad and deep, admitting 
large vessels to proceed a considerable way up the 
country, and unload their cargoes at the place 
most desirable. We were drawn by three horses, 
and proceeded at the rate of four miles and a half 
an hour. We had thus the consciousness of mak- 
ing a pretty rapid progress, but unaccompanied 
with the feeling of any motion, except a pleasing 
sensation of gliding. The placid repose of the 
surface of the canal, was relieved from dullness by 
the rays of the setting sun? aad was mildly inter- 



19 

rupted by the advance of the boat, skimming 
rather than cutting her way. The opulent rest of 
the fields, exuberant in the fatness of their produce, 
and lying low under the weight of their own rich- 
ness ; — the frequent appearance of snug happy 
looking houses ; — the occasional view of sturdy, 
simple, and well-fed peasants, carrying their fishing 
rods and filled baskets, — united with the other cir- 
cumstances to produce a sense of tranquil enjoy- 
ment. 

All this might be contemplated in its own quiet 
from the further extremity of the boat ; and, turning 
one's face toward the stern, it might be contrasted 
with the flutter of gaudy flags and white awnings, 
the nodding of women's bonnets, the sweeping of 
their gowns, the bustling, loud chattering, and 
quick movements of a laughing set of passengers. 
The Belgian ladies and geniemen all talk French, 
and I would describe their manner as consisting of 
what is best in* that of the French, namely, its 
liveliness, and speedy familiarity, omitting what is 
worst ; — its artifice, theatrical eflfect, and warning 
©f insincerity. 

An old man came on board to grind his organ ; — 
he seemed very stupid and awkward, — but he 
brought with him his grandson, a child of seven, 
who had ^mple vivacity and readiness for his sire 
and himself. His reparti^es on those who attempted 
to plague him, were much better than the shrill 
singing with which he accompanied the miserable 
instrument. But it was best of all to see the pro- 
fessional dexterity and avidity, belonging to him 
as a publick exhibitor, succeeded, the moment he 
had finished the collection of a few sous in a wooden 
cup, by the genuine and pure simplicity of the 
child, — displayed in eagerly recurring to his work 
of cutting out, from a bit of stick, the body of a 
man, and ingeniously fixing two pins for its legs? 



20 

Below the deck where these fine entertainments 
were going forward, there was a suit of cabins; the 
first one being handsomely furnished with crimson 
velvet curtains and cushions, where a few who 
were more languidly inclined than the others, or 
who found peculiar satisfaction in the conversation 
and attentions of a single companion, experienced 
suitable accommodation. Several of the other 
apartments were occupied as shops for dispensing 
fruit, liquors, and various refreshmen is. 

Among the seats on deck, one was occupied by 
six or eight English women, the wives of sergeants 
and sergeant-majors of our army, whose round caps, 
small straw hats, and pluin brown cloth pelisses, 
were sadly overpowered by the shawis, feathers, 
and flounces of the Tiir Belgians. But they were 
in high glee notwithstanding, — they talked loud, 
laughed carelessly, and toid every one to whom 
they could make themselves understood, how long 
it was since each liad seen her husband, where she 
had lived in the meanwhile, how many children 
she had living, and how many dead. 

We had also on board a man whom I would have 
taken for a British sailor, but for an exjarssion of 
cautious shrewdness in his broad ha*featured 
countenance. He shewed a restless anxiety to 
speak to every Englishman, which 1 soon found 
proceeded from the jiride of broken English. " I 
have served in your navy," were his first words to 
me : — he had fought at Camperdown under the 
Dutch Admiral Storey, whom he cursed for a trai- 
tor, and added, — " So you see I was t?^ken for a 
prisoner of war, and then I went fos to serve in 
one of your king's ships, which was better than 
for to starve; wasn't it. Sir ? Ha, ha, ha !" A Bel- 
gian, who partly comprehended what was said, 
seemed to think he had made an improper choice, 
and said something in Flemish to the renegado. 



21 

which caused the latter to turn sulkily away from 
the speaker, sticking his hands in his breeches' 
pockets. 

When we were about half way to Bruges, a boat 
put oif from a brig that was lying to unload her 
cargo, — and a stout fellow, in a blue jacket and 
trowsers, threw himself into our schuyt, with the 
air of Sheerness in all its grace and activity. He 
also was a Dutchman, and had also served in our 
navy. The transformation in this case was more 
complete than in the former, though sufficiently 
deficient to render the exhibition grotesque and 
ridiculous. Our new passenr; :i' was, as a British 
sailor, very drunk, — and, as a native of Holland, 
very clumsy in his jokes and caperings. The 
other Hollander was, at .first, very suspicious, and 
exercised the right of cross-questioning the new 
comer as to Ihe truth of bis pretensions to have 
served on board a king's shin; but finding, after 
an interchange of craft secrets, that he was no im- 
postor, maintained over him for the rest of the 
time, the superintendance which a sober comrade 
ought to preserve over a drunken one,— winking, 
with much self-complacency, to the English, as his 
friend gave vent to the nautical oaths in rather a 
foreign style. The Marchand below soon disco- 
vered the value of his acquisition in this fresh pas- 
senger, and was not wanting in the necessary at- 
tentions to one who needed no extraordinary 
temptation to commence a familiar acquaintance 
with the bottles. As the drunken fellow put a 
glass of liquor to his mouth, his eye caught mine, 
and instantly changing the cast of his look from 
one of glo:iting satisfaction to one of doleful regret, 
he exclaimed, — *' Ah, Sir, on board the Ajax I 

drank mm ; here, d — , I must drink 

gin ! I served King George for twenty years, and 
HOW I am returning to my own country, well 



22 

clothed, and with plenty of prize-money." — After 
finishing his draught, he reeled round to the musi- 
cian, and called upon him to play up a '^ nice tune. ^* 
The old man did as he was ordered ; — when he 
had done, his little boy kept pushing him earnestly 
behind, driving him on to extract from the intoxi- 
cated sailor a reward, proportioned rather to the 
condition of the customer than to the worth of the 
commodity. Not finding his pushes, or some gen- 
tle kicks, properly attended to, he undertook the 
work of importunity i imself, and pursued it with 
great perseverance, till he was rather roughly re- 
pulsed. The ladies, on board, regarded tlie trou- 
blesome Anglo-HolI^nder as a strange monster, 
and it was easy to discover from their looks, and 
some few words which they dropped, that they 
gave to England the principal share of the honour 
due to his formation. 

We arrived at Bruges late in the evening; and, 
after a short walk from the canal, surrounded by a 
crowd of porters, coachmen, cabriolet drivers, &c. 
accustomed to wait the arrival of the packet boat, 
our progress was stopped by the first outwork of 
this fortified place. This passed, another soon 
presented itself, and lastly came the heavy town- 
gates, leading through the massive walls which 
formed the third line of the triple defence. Inten- 
ding to set off in an hour or two by another boat 
for Ghent, I was fold that no time must be lost in 
dispatching my luggage through the opposite gates 
of the town, othervvise the men, who carried it, 
would not be able to return home, as the barriers 
would be closed against all entrance for the night. 
This necessity, pressing on the inhabitants in ar- 
ranging their visiting;s or business without the 
walls, is one of several circumstances that startle 
those who are unaccustomed to the precautions and 
restraints of fortified cities, observed in countries 



23 

that are often the seat of war. England, " the 
ancient and the free," has been long and happily 
exempted from these severiiies and inconve- 
niences. 

Bruges, like most of the towns in the Nether- 
lands, is very large, but contains a small number of 
inhabitants in proportion to its extent. The hou- 
ses here, and eisewhere in Belgium, are bulky but 
ill-nil ed : yet a neatness and orderly arrangement 
are visible in the external appearances of the 
streets throughout this kingdom, which one in vain 
looks for in France. My stay in Bruges was only 
for an hour or two of darkness, so that 1 can say no- 
thing of any of its ohjecis of curiosity. The spire 
of the principal church seemed to ie magnificently 
light and lofty, and this is the general character of 
the churches in this quarter. Their architecture is 
of an order of the Gothick, the etfect of which is 
very imposing. 

When supping at the hotel here, our host came 
in with a book, in which he is compelled to enter, 
every day, the name, age, prof^ession, and domi- 
cile, — also the place coming from, and the place 
going to, of each of his guests. The list is sent 
every twenty-four hours to the [)olice. I found it 
full of the recorded particulars of a host of my 
countryfolks, of each sex, and every age, profession, 
residence, and condition, all on the swarm for 
Brussels. Many of them, however, with much 
simolicity of acknowledgement, had put down the 
precise point of their destination, in the words, 
" Field of battle^ near Waterloo.'''' There were 
whole columns of those very familiar patronymic ks, 
the Johnsons, Robertses, Davises, and Jacksons, 
coupled with Highgate, Pancras, Camherwell, and 
even some of the streets of London, such as the 
Strand, Oxford Road, and Charing Cross, && the 
places of their respective domiciles. These will 



24 

remain in the archives of the police at Bruges, as 
the memorials of a most extraordinary time. 

Proceeding to the boat in which my fellow-tra- 
veller and myself were to perform our night voyage 
to Ghent, our Fiacre was stopped by the centinel 
at the gates, the hour of shutting them against 
return having arrived. Expressing some disap- 
pointment at being compelled to walk at least a 
mile and a half to the point of our embarkation, an 
honest Flemish farmer, who was passing through 
to his abode, offered us seals with him in his cabri- 
olet. He was a hale, jolly, worthy fellow, — an 
excellent specimen of his country's productions, 
both in size and sentiment. The only recompense 
he asked was, that we should do as much for him 
when he came to England. He stopped at an 
Auberge, making us drink with him some of the 
white beer of the country, and when we offered to 
open our purses, stopped us with a look of good 
humoured anger. " Here,'' said he, " we live well ; 
"We have plenty of every thing w^e want, though in 
your country you would not call us rich; but 
twenty francs here, go as far as a hundred with you." 

It was quite clear that he was right in speaking 
of his country as abundant in its possessions : re- 
spectable villages, honest faces, green tields, and 
pretty peasant girls, every where greeted us. The 
general language of the country, after advancing 
from the coast, is French, but its habits and general 
appearance are very superiour to those of its neigh- 
bour. The individuals who have lately written of 
the happy condition of the peasantry of France, 
have surely not passed from the Netherlands within 
the French frontier. In the former, on-e may see 
hamlets, hearing evidence by their snng, onlerly, 
and clean look, that their inhabitants are as well 
off as peor>le in their condition of life can he; but 
one cannot enter France for six mdes without ob- 



serving a totally different aspect. Gaunt houses, 
ill filled with poverty and grimace, ruined chateaus, 
slovenly grounds, again struck me as they did last 
year on my first visit to France. 

Sterne calls Flanders the great prize-fighting 
stage of Europe, and the appellation is a just one. 
There is not a town here, I may say not a spot 
bearing a name, that does not instantly, when 
mentioned, suggest the recollection of famous cam- 
paigns, including able military manoeuvres, great 
battles, important treaties, alliances, discords, and 
devastations. Here " some of the finest sieges 
have been laid to some of the finest fortified cities 
in Europe." My Uncle Toby rode most furiously, 
as every one knows, on Flanders, as his hobby 
horse. His model of a fortified place, provided by 
the ingenuity of Trim, was made, we are told, to 
be a [)erfect Proteus. — " It was Landen, and Tre- 
rebach, and Santvliet, and Urusen, and Hageriau, 
— and then it was Osfend, and Menin, and Aeth, 
and Dendermond." Among these towns, or in their 
neighbourhood, I now passed. I was surrounded 
by Liege, and Bruges, and M alines, and Juliers, 
and Tournay, and Mons, and Jemappe, — the 
scenes of the fiercest encounterings of the armed 
strength of nations. I now followed the march of 
Marlborough and of Eugene, the chastisers of the 
amoition and vanity of a French King : I rolled 
over the ground on which the French Republick 
assumed her awful character of the conqueror of 
Europe : I trod on the field where, after a long 
career of unexampled victories, a French Emperour 
tried a last and desperate effort to ward off his own 
and his country's humiiiation, and failed, and was 
beaten down into disgrace and CH[)tivity. 

One would expect that a country so long devoted 
to these terrible doings, would shew itself but as a 
Golgotha — a place of skulls ; but, by some happy 

4 



26 

qualities of character and circumstances, it seems 
to have overcome the severities of its fate in this 
respect, and its people have acquired amiable fea- 
tures, and their condition has taken a kindly, 
flourishing look, under events that seem calculated 
only to brutify and destroy. 

We found the boat going from Bruges to Ghent 
very deficient in its accommodation, compared 
with the one that brought us from Ostend to the 
former place. The regular passage schuyt goes in 
the morning; that which takes its departure at 
night, is adapted chiefly for the conveyance of 
goods, having only a small cabin for the inferiour 
order of travellers, who embrace this opportunity 
on account of its cheapness. A British officer, in 
his furred great coat, covered with frogs, who had 
committed himself rather rashly to this floating 
receptacle for Flemish peasants, looked misery and 
despair as he came up, driven on deck by one 
peep into the crowded apartment below. He 
stretched himself on some large crates, and procured 
a dangerous shelter from the cold night air, by 
covering himself with damp sacks. I felt no incli- 
nation to make a similar attempt at repose, but 
preferred going down to look at the crowd of 
strangers amongst whom I had been accidentally 
thrown, and whose merry conversation assailed my 
ears in violent gusts of noise. 

I could scarcely force my way into the cabin : 
it was lined with sitters three deep, and a number 
of standers near the door were on the alert to disco- 
ver and seize vacant places. Men and women 
were jammed together, — some nodding in an uneasy 
sleep, others hushing their children, whom the 
heated atmosphere and the confinement rendered 
irritable and teazing, — some eating out of baskets 
of provisions, others labouring hr-rd to get room for 
their legs. In the middle, a small space was re- 



2r 

served for a card table, at which two men were 
seated, {ilaying with a well used pack that belong- 
ed to the boat, forming part of its accommodations 
for the nightly voyage. One of these players 
remained stationary at the table for many hours, 
receiving various antagonists in the game as they 
presented themselves in rotation. According to a 
sort of general understanding, which no one ex- 
pressed but every one felt, he seemed to be installed 
with certain privileges over his companions : he 
evidently had a presiding influence, which did not, 
at first, seem to me very explicable, as he was a 
man " severe and stern to view," turned of fifty, 
whose manners had no particular refinement, and 
whose tout ensemble told you that, as to the gifts 
of fortune, he was far from being above those by 
whom he was surrounded. The secret, however, 
was explained, when I afterwards discovered him 
to be the well-known scho«>imaster of a Flemish 
village. " Full well" his neighbours laughed,^ — but 
not " with counterfeited glee," at "all his jokes. 

- — " And many a joke had he." 

The sudden peal of merriment, rising after he had 
uttered one or two uncouth syllables in the country 
language, startled the sleepers, and made them 
spring up with an inquiring gaze on their half 
awakened faces. The conversation vyas all car- 
ried on in the Flemish dialect, the harshest that 
can be imagined. I sat as one out of all society, 
yet hot and pressed in a crowd. Those by whom 
I was squeezed looked at me, and I looked at them, 
but the interchange conveyed little or no commu- 
nication from either side. When they laughed to 
the danger of their sides, I could only laugh with 
them, in the confidence that they would not allow 
their lungs so to crow without sufficient cause. At 



28 



the hazard of being thought sentimental I must 
confess, that ray thoughts flew quickly between this 
strange scene and that from which only three days 
had removed me. At home, the garden was then 
lying quiet and clear in the moonlight, — the faces, 
best known to me in the world, were most probably 
resting placidly on their pillows, — and here was I, — 
wakeful and unregarded, — not understood, not un- 
derstanding, — perspiring at every pore, and silently 
listening to coarse jokes, uttered in guttural Ger- 
man. 

The first hours of morning came, and the boat 
stopped for half an hour to allow us to take coflPee 
in a house of refreshment by the side of the canal. 
The throng of passengers rushed out of the cabin 
and threw themselves into seats on each side 
of a long table, covered with the preparations that 
were in perfect readiness awaiting their arrival. 
We drank as much coffee as we pleased, and ate 
our fill of bread and butter, for six sous,^ — three- 
pence, each. 

Between four and five o'clock, the sun struggled 
to get above the round willow trees that enclosed 
the canal : we passed numerous villages that shone 
in the silver of its early light ; the inhabitants 
were up and already at their occupations ; the 
smoke was rising from the cottages ; the children 
were at the doors half naked; the dew hung heavy 
on the grass. During the night, those who went 
on deck had only heard the feet of the horses that 
drew the boat,— but now they were to be seen, at 
a small distance,— noi guided by the rough-looking 
boy who dozed on the back of one. The country 
continued flat and rich ; the people and their habi- 
tations, cheerful and comfortable. A party of Bel- 
gian soldiers were huddled in a group near the bow 
of the vessel : they conversed in French, and 
talked of Buonaparte; — he had lost his head they 
said, no wonder then that he had lost his crowis.-'- 



29 

With all imaginable carelessness, they struck frons 
these contemptuous remarks, on one that was lately 
so terrible, into a song, the chorus of which was, 
*' Five le Roi, — le Roi des Pays basT What a 
change did all this indicate from the state of 
Europe's publick affairs as they were in 1812 and the 
preceding years ! The alteration, though in many 
respects gratifying, was, in one, melancholy and 
humiliating to human nature, for it shewed what 
mere creatures of circumstances are mankind, 
including their opinions and their interests; — it 
shewed how little things here are regulated by any 
tixed standard of propriety, — but how easily the 
" great globe itself, and all that it inhabits," become 
cast and re-cast, in every variety of " form and 
pressure," according to the predominating influence 
of the day. — What song would these soldiers have 
sung three years ago'/ 

The high and florid spire of Ghent, rose, in the 
cold blue clearness of an atmosphere, which the 
sun's rays had not yet reached, with all its notched 
and carved outlines distinctly marked. The eye 
was led to it along a stretching line of water, shut 
in by two regular rows of cropped willow-frees on 
the banks. There was no catching, at this place, 
even a glimpse of the country on either side ; it 
was impossible to look in any direction but along 
the narrowing mio of canal, terminating in a point 
on which we were gradually advancing. 

At the landing place at Ghent we were sur- 
rounded by a crowd of ragged boys and oilicious 
men, — ^most of them speaking a little English, and 
nothing loath to display their acquirement. One 
insisted upon conducting us to the best hotel, 
another would shew us the church, a third would 
lead to the ofhce of the diligence,— and there was 
not wanting one to whisper, though it was before 
breakfast, that he knew where the " pretty girte 
lived." 

4* 



30 



CHAPTER ly. 

If this work professed to give an account of the 
Netherlands, I should be ashamed to confess that I 
remained but a couple of hours in the large city of 
Ghent, the greater part of which time was occu- 
pied in breakfasting and arranging my departure 
from it. But Brussels and Paris were my objects, 
and towards these I moved with al! possible rapi- 
dity, — feeling that moments spent by the way, as 
they must necessarily be few, would not permit me 
to indulge in any thing worth the name of obser- 
vation, while they would prove a serious loss in 
regard to my main pursuits. Perhaps, as I ha^e 
little or nothing to narrate of Ghent, or of the 
places between it and Brussels, the present may be 
a M opportunity for saying something general on 
the Netherlands ; for, as we advance, we shall 
become very busy with the scenes immediately 
before us. 

Ghent is known as the city to which Louis the 
XVIIIth. retired from before the successful usur- 
per of his throne. It gave the King of France an 
asylum for the three months which formed the 
period of his second exile. It is an extremely ex- 
tensive, but veryempty place. The houses large, 
sui'Stantial, and in many instances elegant, gave 
but few tokens of animation, and none of opulence. 
The dullest country town in England can atford 
no idea of the stillness and vacancy of the several 
noble lool'iing cities on the line of road from the 
Flemish coast to Brussels. The peasants in theif 
hamlets and farms seem all prospiering in their 
lowly and simple condition ; but, when we arrive 
at those huge masses of buildings, whose lofty 
sipires have challenged our attention for previous^ 



31 

leagues of flatness, and where we therefore expect 
to find astir the many noisy operations of human 
industry, and to be saluted with the shew of life in 
its largest and gayest state, — we are plunged sud- 
denly into shade and silence. Not the shade of 
the woods which soothes, but of heavy walls which 
startles ; — not the silence of the fields, which is 
that of nature in its fertility, — but of untenanted 
habitations, which is that of society in its decay. 
A solitary individual may be seen walking in the 
middle of one of the long and narrow streets of 
these towns,^ — like a sexton stepping down the 
echoing aisle of a cathedral, — listening to the 
reverberation of his own feet, instead of hearing 
the enlivening sounds of a crowded thoroughfare, — 
gazing with a contemplative air, as if in the paved 
court of a college, instead of glancing with a vigi- 
lant one, as one must in the crowd of Cheapside. 

Here, then, man appears as if he had fallen away 
from his sumptuous and capacious coverings : " His 
youthful hose, well-saved, a world too wide for his 
shrunk shanks." In the neighbouring country of 
the United Provinces, it, was till very lately, 
quite the reverse. But, under the system of Buo- 
naparte, the exchange of Amsterdam, and its 
warehouses, were rapidly becoming what the splen- 
did churches of Belgium are, — relit ks of the past, 
rather than signs of the present. It is curious too, 
that, at the very time when Buonaparte was taking 
measures which rendered useless what existed, he 
was not only projecting but executing vast pu?lick 
Svorks, that could only have their proper utility 
in that extension of commerce to which he was a ^ 

determined foe. Having deposed his brother 
Louis for indulging the trade of the Dutch in vio- 
lation of the rules of the anti-commercial code, 
framed for the continent of Europe by its con- 
queror, he instantly set about improving the sluices, 



32 

and multiplying the canals of a country which he 
"Was reducing to beggary. His justification of such 
conduct was probably rested on what he had in 
view as the final result of his violent endeavours, 
to which these were only the means of reaching. 
He always represented that the prosperity of his 
vassal states would be the consequence of the com- 
plete success of his plans ; and, when England was 
overthrown by his arms, when grass grew in the 
era of our Royal Exchange, when the bosom of the 
Thames should be unbroken by the keels of ships, 
and bear along with it to the sea no sound but that 
of its own deep current, no freightage but its own 
parted weeds, then might the canals, which our 
enemy cut in Holland, and the roads which he 
made in the various kingdoms which he conquered, 
have become the channels of tratfick, and of the 
numerous communications of a thriving people. 
But his design must now be judged of as one of 
those pieces of inflation, which are great, not in 
substantial qualities, but precisely because they 
are not solid, — which swell beyond common 
bounds because the slightest puncture may reduce 
them far within these. He who will disregard all 
chances of failure, to provide for which others with- 
hold a portion of their means, will have more than 
others to expend in the pursuit of success ; and is 
therefore likely, for a time, to be more brilliant 
than others in his achievements; but, if his career 
should happen to end in humiliation and disaster 
deeper and more abrupt than fall within the usual 
scope of reverses, it is but fair to consider what he 
gained as closely and necessarily connected with 
what he afterwards lost, and to found the estimate 
of his talent on the value of his complete career. 
A prodigal may astonish us by his magnificence 
over the man of prudence, — but the prodigal is 
likely to leave his splendid saloon for a prison, 



38 

while the man of prudence runs but little risk of 
being taken from the fireside of his parlour. It is 
not meant by this to confound genius with medio- 
crity ; 'but to make a distinction between imposi- 
tion and reality, — between tinsel and gold: — to 
enter a protest against permitting the fiightiness of 
second-rate minds to receive the honours due only 
to the strength of first-rate : — to caution those who 
are inclined to mistake empiricism for science, and 
the desperation of a rash gambler for the skill of a 
wary calculator. 

Buonaparte might occasionally sooth his own 
consciousness witk the idea that he was ruining 
Holland only to raise it, as a fox-hunter talks of 
ridding the farmer of vermin, while he prohibits 
him from carrying a gun, and rides over his crops 
with dogs and horses; — but Buonaparte" shelved in 
this instance, as in others, that, however 4ie might 
allege an ultimate object of improvement as a jus- 
tification, his passionate desires wers to be known 
in certain intermediate measures that were both 
savage and brutifying. As ultimate publick benefit 
could scarcely have sanctioned these, their failure 
must consign them to ignominy and reprobation, 
since it has proved them to have been ill-calculated 
for any thing but the gratification of a violent and 
ruinous ambition, whose selfish cravings were to 
be appeased at any expense of general suffering 
and mischief. Of him may be said, as of Philip of 
Spain, " With great talents, he failed to obtain the 
reputation of a great prince, because, with a know- 
ledge of mankind, and the power of benefiting 
them, he became the destroyer of his species, the 
chief instrument of human misery." 

The real carelessness of this person for the fine 
and salutary objects, about which it was common 
for him to talk, has always been discoverable in 
some coarse and hasty action, contradicting the 



34 

tenoiir of his professions, and shewing his true dis- 
position. Thus, notwithstanding his tawdry allu- 
sions to classical fame, and his canting shew of 
veneration for antiquity, and admiration for art, he 
actuHfly sold the superb Golhick church at Utrecht, 
standing as it was in perfection and strength, that 
the sum given by bricklayers and carpenters for its 
materials might pay the expense of a pyramid to 
record his victory over Austria ! — It is not to be 
denied, however, that since the administration of 
the publick affairs of the Dutch provinces has been 
shifted into milder hands, what he has done in the 
way of improving the zonvemences of the country 
win be found of the greatest use ; and the numerouSj 
populous, bustling, and neat towns of that country, 
are likely to present again, as before, striking con- 
trasts to the lethargick Flemish cities, — to which it 
is now time to return. 

Flemish industry and ipgenuii,/ were, from an 
early period down to the sixteenth century, unri- 
valled ; and these produced that opulence, which, 
according to the taste and character of the times, 
lavished itself on the magnificence of the many 
superb churches which adorn that country. It is 
not easy to see the justice of the attacks that have 
been made so often on trade as mean in its spirit, 
and of degrading influence; for, if the history of 
states be regarded, it will be found that those of a 
commercial character have been distinguished, not 
only by the love of enterprize, but also by the love 
of independence. The Flemish cities, then popu- 
lous and active, are noted for their refractory dis- 
position, as it was called, — perpetually leading 
them to resist the oppressive measures of their 
unwise masters, the Dukes of Burgundy. The 
citizens of Ghent, in particular, rose in their mar- 
ket-place on one of these Dukes, 'avA compelled 
liim to restore their ancient and important righf, 



©f which he had deprived them, — namely, thafc 
each of their trade-companies should carry in pro- 
cession its respective and proper banner! But it 
was the ruinous imposts levied by these Sovereigns 
that did the most harm to the Flemish cities : in 
process of time the trade of Bruges declined in 
favour of Antwerp, and one of the consequences of 
the noble stand for liberty made by the Seven 
Protestant Provinces, in the glory of which the 
others did not share, was to transfer to Amsterdam 
the commerce of Antwerp. Since this period the 
ports and cities of the Netherlands, have been 
more associated with the fatal operations of war, 
than with the exertions of peaceful industry, — and 
their size and magniiceace, resultiig from the 
skill and thrift of their people, have been taken 
advantage of to furnish princes with instruments 
for carrying on those hateful feuds of which the 
people are always the victims. 

It was a fatal thing for these ^ne provinces that 
a religious jealousy prevented their complete union 
in the struggle for liberty and i«de[sendence against 
Spain; but their majority professing the Roman 
Catholick faith, and the minority of seven adhering 
to the Protestant, that alienation of sympathy 
which religious differences engender more than 
any other, occasioned a division of their strength 
and interests, at a moment when a combination of 
heart and power was most peculiarly necessary and 
desirable. Since then, the inhabitants of Belgium 
and of the Dutch Provinces, have entertained that 
strong dislike of each other which generally fol- 
lows the rupture of a close connexion. 

This feeling, it is understood, operates with all 
its original force at the present moment, and is 
much to be regretted as it embitters the recent na- 
tional union of the two countries, and, for the pre- 
sent, at leasts deprives both of the benefits which 



36 

they might derive from this political measure. I 
was told, that during the night previous to my 
arrival at Ghent, a man had been killed in a dis- 
turbance occasioned by a religious dispute. The 
populace of the country had got it into their heads 
that their new Sovereign was about to pull down 
all their fine old churches ! My readers recollect 
the opposition lately made by the States of the 
Netherlands to the law in favour of general tole- 
ration; which opposition rendered it necessary 
that the King should declare, that the Jaw in ques- 
tion was a part of the publick code of Europe, 
enacted by the Congress of Vienna, as applicable 
to the kingdoms influenced by its arrangements, 
and therefore not subject to the adoption, or rejec- 
tion of particular governments.* If there be any 
thing sus})icious, or objectionable in this inter- 
ference with the rights of national legislation, there 
is something so admirable in the general priucii^ile, 
thus solemnly consecrated by the act of the assem- 
bled authorities of Europe, that one would willingly 
look over a trifling irregularity for the sake of the 
assurance thus given to mankind, that the late ter- 
rible agitations have not afilicted the world quite 
in vain, but that a great moral and political 
improvement has occurred as their issue. Nor 
ought we, in passing judgment on publick charac- 
ter, to overlook the dif5«ulties which the ignorance 
and violence of the people have frequently thrown 
in the way of their princes, when the latter have 
shewn themselves inclined to introduce institutions 
and customs more liberal than had heretofore pre- 
vailed. It would indeed be a delightful thing that 
there should be no appearance of force in bringing 
about the union of states, or of violation in the ad- 
justment of territories, or of any thing but the po 

* Why was Spain left out of this arrangement P 



pular will in the publication of laws, — but what is 
to be done when contiguous provinces hate each 
other because they do not take the sacrament in 
the same way, and when a people cry out tyranny 
because of toleration ? It would not be very prac- 
ticable, if it were desirable, to animate sovereigns 
with the opinions and feelings of certain warm 
political speculators, — the good must probably con- 
tinue to be worked out, as it always has been, by 
a rough collision between those who withhold, and 
those who demand, too much : — but there is neither 
honour nor prudence in denying, that the rulers of 
the present day have convinced themselves of 
many important tniths as to the extent and nature 
of popular rights; — that they have been impressed 
by facts which were calculated to reconcile these 
rights to their inclinations ; — that they see more 
clearly than they ever before did, the connexion 
which subsists between the real strength of go- 
vernments, and the independence of subjects ;— 
but that in their fair intentions they have too fre- 
quently been calumniated, in their salutary endea- 
vours thwarted, and that their favourable disposi- 
tions have been, not unnaturally, disgusted, by the 
inconsistent and irritating jealousies which assail 
them from sides so opposite in sentiment, as to 
render it impossible to secure the approbation of 
both. 

Another complaint urged by the Belgians against 
their union with the Dutch, seems mure rational 
than that which has been already noticed. They 
say, that the publick debt of the Dutch Provinces 
was much more heavy than their debt, and that 
now, the whole being lumped together, they will 
have the worst of it. Such being the state of their 
minds, composed partly of the most objectionable, 
but the most pertinacious sort of prejudices, and in 
part, probably, of reasonable discontent, the new 

5 



38 

order of political affairs cannot be supposed to be 
very popular. But a more pleasant view for the 
future opens, in consequence of a curious coinci- 
dence between the present disposition of the peo- 
ple of this country, a^nd that for which they were 
in former times remarkable. Philip de Commines 
says, that it was a proverb of one of the Dukes of 
Burgundy, " that the citizens of Gaunt love their 
Prince'' s son well, but their Prince never. ''^ The 
inhabitants of the Netherlands now verify the 
proverb, for, while they speak slightingly, and in 
a grumbling tone of their King, his son is a very 
great favourite with them, and is never alluded to 
but in affectionate and even admiring terras. The 
conduct and habits of the Hereditary Prince are 
certainly well calculated to inspire this favourable 
sentiment. His spirit in the field is well known; 
it was generally noticed and praised in Spain, 
when he fought as a young officer in the British 
service; and, in the recent memorable engage- 
ments, it was finely proved in the sight and at the 
doors of those who have become the subjects of 
his father. But there is in his character, besides 
this prepossessing feature, a lively frankness, which, 
in its effects on his manners, is extremely pleasant 
to the people of these parts, as being in unison 
with their own habits and tempers. The present 
moment of the world is generally unfavourable for 
what was formerly so successful, — the ponderous 
and solemn display of kingly state, — and, in the 
Netherlands, the cheerfulness of the people would 
turn them from it with peculiar disgust. They 
are, accordingly, delighted when they find the heir- 
apparent of their sovereign sitting gaily down 
amidst the promiscuous assemblage of a table d'hote 
in Brussels, — discarding, to all appearance, every 
recollection of his high rank, and maintaining only 
the companionable deportment of a gentleman. 



39 

Kis Serene Highness has thus been fortunate and 
judicious enough to secure both the respect and 
the affection of those over whom his fjr-.iil}'^ is to 
govern : and, as nothing is more intolerable than 
the prospect of a bad succession, so the hopes of 
seeing the sway pass into the hands of one with 
whom they are pleased, will most probably soon 
reconcile the people of Belgium to these arrange- 
ments by which the sovereignty over them has 
been vested in the house of Orange. 

I was anxious to ascertain whether there existed 
in Belgium, what could be called a publicj^ '^^rinn^^ 
in favour of that aut^.;v,;fy ^;hic]i iLe old govern"^ 
ITjeins or Europe have been lucky enough to put 
down, after a series of terrible struggles, and after 
having been themselves long kept in a state of 
humiliation under its influence. The existence of 
that authority, mischievous as in many respects it 
was, and meriting the odium of mankind, is never- 
theless associated with deliverance from much that 
was noxious and galling, — much that insulted the 
understandings, while it injured the interests and 
rendered uncomfortable the conditions of the peo= 
pie. Moreover, its triumphs were splendid while 
they were cruel ; its training was vigorous, while 
it was severe :— false, deceitful, and really degrad- 
ing as its character was, it had a strut and swell 
in its port and gait, and a declamatory tone in its 
language, which altogether rendered it a superb 
and dazzling piece of imposition, well adapted to 
strike the imaginations and overcome the feelings 
of the mass. The countries too, over which it 
chiefly prevailed, were very deficient in publick 
information generally, — but more particularly igno- 
rant of political doctrines, and the merits of political 
practice. The consequences were, a simple cre- 
dulity in favour of the new quackery, and a fero- 
eious discontent against the old systems of govertj^ 



ment The latter had not covered their palpable 
absurdities and oppressions with any veil of arti- 
fice, and, not using the fashionable cant to recom- 
mend them, failed to render even their best quali- 
ties acceptable. In England, the trick would not 
have passed current for twelve months ; but, on the 
continent, the declamation about the empire of the 
west, and the freedom of the seas, and eagles, and 
dynasties, filled the multitude with a kind of ad- 
miring awe even in the midst of their sufferings, — 
causing them to cherish a pride in the yoke which 
pressed orr their necks, and the harness which 
bound them to drag the chariot of a conqueror. 

We still, therefore, find, in most of the countries 
where Buonaparte had established his predomi- 
nance, a sort of hankering after the ornamental 
parts of it. Many persons in these countries 
rather confess his faults than declare them ; Ihey 
speak of him as of a favourite sin, — as of something 
which cannot be justified, but was not disliked. 
This kind of sentiment seems to prevail in the 
Netherlands, and 1 understand also in Holland, 
which is more remarkable. It is chiefly to be 
traced to a want of that sense, always prevailing 
in a land of liberty, by which a violation of per- 
sonal independence is felt as a personal insult, not 
to be atoned for even by what is called -national 
glory. Where men have been accustomed to think 
of themselves and their interests of every kind, as 
at the mercy of a superiour will, they do not esti- 
mate privations and inflictions, falling on indivi- 
duals, as a free people would estimate them, — and, 
being utterly without the consciousness of dignity 
as individuals, they set great store by that parade 
and achievement which cause the national name 
to rattle sonorously in the ears of their neighbours, 
affording a consolation for internal hardships and 
humiliations in publick spectacle and external 
fame. 



4! 

The KetherTandcrs, or at least those of them who 
Bad any pretensions to intelligence, did not attempt 
to say a word in direct praise of Buonaparte, but 
they referred to the zenith of his success in terms 
of admiration, and seemed to feel as if his downfall 
had caused them to subside into something smaller 
and less attractive than they were before^ At the 
same time their common expression was, that lat- 
terly he had become usi^ — and that his personal 
influence, in consequence of his late blunders and 
defects, was for ever destroyed. Consistency and 
sound reflection, however, on political subjects, you 
cannot meet with on the continent t — these talker® 
would violently blame the measure of religious 
toleration, as ordered by the present sovereign of the 
Nt^therlands, yet betray an evident leaning towards 
one who was for ever mortifying the Catholick su- 
perstition, who shewed, even in what might be 
termed his attentions to religion, that he had no 
very implicit respect for its authority,—- and who^ 
according to the natural tendency of an intelligent 
mind, uncorrupted in this respect by selfi&hness^ . 
was bent on completely abolishing those arrogant 
assumptions of particular faiths, which are made 
as much to the injury of the political strength of 
a state, as to the abuse and violation of its civiF 
rights. The existence of the feeling which I have 
described as prevalent in the Netherlands, may^ 
seem to my readers to bode ill for the duration of 
that order of publick affairs, the arrangement of 
which has been represented a& the uncovering o£ 
the established and fruitful face of things, on the 
subsidence of the deluge of destruction. But I d© 
not think that the danger is imminent; at least it 
i« very easy to see where the means of counteract^ 
ing it lie. It only requires that certaiii opportE- 
uities should be decently improved, to imm tie 
channel of publick sentiment inta q.uite aoiothfer 

5 -"^- 



42 

direction. It is very evident tliat the govcra- 
ments which cannot dazzle their subjects' eyes,, 
ought to address their hearts and understandings ; 
and it is not less certain that the latter method will 
inevitably produce a superiour degree of attach- 
ment, and a more changeless fidelity. The grow- 
ing prosperity of the United Provinces of the Low 
Countries, restored to all theiimatural relationships, 
and enjoying, in the guarantees of publick quiet, 
arnd the duration of publick establishments, induce- 
ments to private enterprize and industry, — will not 
loag be without its natural effect on the tempers of 
the people. The recovery of the admired objects 
of Art, which these provinces had lost, is likely to 
be in this way highly valuable. It will give them 
a sense of increased importance and dignity; it 
win add to their national claims on respect; it will 
provide them with the means of bringing strangers 
to visit their cities, — a communication, which i» 
both profitable and agreeable ; and it will open 
safe and noble pursuits to occupy the ambition of 
the aspiring, by placing before them examples of 
fame, permanent, general, and exalted, acquired by 
the cultivation of an elegant skill, administering 
to the peaceful entertainment of mankind. It is 
then most right that these advantage^, belonging 
as it may be said to the tranquillity and improve- 
ment of Europe, should be secured for its different 
states. The security for having quieter times 
than the past, lies in the value of what has succeed- 
ed to it,— it is impossible, therefore, to conceive 
any advice more injudicious than that which was 
given to leave the spoils of nations in the hands of 
the defeated spoiler, — to perpetuate the shame of 
the continent by imperishable memorials, and to 
provide for no vestige or proof of its glory. — What 
would this have been but to point the lesson 
against the interests of society, by leaving the 



43 ^ 

sense of humiliation pressing on those who were 
injured, but who struggled for, and gained the pow- 
er to redress themselves,— and the exultation and 
self-congratulation to be enjoyed by those, who for 
a while triumphed in outrage, but were at length 
reduced to the situation of overpowered criminals. 
The regard for the English prevailing in the 
Netherlands, and resulting from the recent intimate 
communication between the two countries in a 
trying time, is another circumstance promising well 
for the future. The Belgians are quite alienated 
from the French ; they have seen, and warmly 
acknowledge, how much better the British troops 
conducted themselves than those of other nations. 
There is not a family in Brussels that does not 
cherish respect and attachment for our countrymen, 
founded on experience of their behaviour in their 
houses; — in many instances these feelings have 
become stronger, and taken a closer turn, under 
the influence of the appeals made by the distress 
and agony of the brave, answered by the kindest 
receptions of hospitality, and the tenderest atten- 
tions of female compassion. The Netherlands and 
Great Britain are now closely connected by the 
kind feelings of their respective people, — and it is 
to be hoped that this connexion will be strengthen- 
ed by a conviction of their publick interests, and 
thus doubly operate to enhance the world's security 
against a fresh burst of publick disorders. 



44 



CHAPTER V. 

On approaching Brussels, the country begins to 
assume the diversified aspect of hill and dale, of 
which there is not an appearance for many miles 
from the coast. The rain fell in frequent and 
heavy showers during my journey from Ghent, but 
so it commonly happens, I believe, here. There 
had not been a day fair throughout, for the three 
motiths previous to that on which I paid my visit 
to the awful field near Waterloo, which was remark- 
ably fine. The diligence crept along barely at 
the rate of four miles an hour, and when the clouds 
burst violejitly we were dragged below the sheds 
near the inns, that the postilion might not be 
drenched. At the doors of these inns, stood seve- 
ral of the miserable cabriolets, let out to travellers, 
soaking in the pouring rain, — the single wretchedt- 
looking horse of each, half drowned in the torrentr-* 
and the forlorn travellers taking a momentary shel- 
ter, only to set out again in a wet and dirty opea 
carriage, seated side by side with a rough fellow, 
the driver, in a dripping great coat, whose constant 
employment is to scourge with a broken whip the 
raw back of his poor broken-down animal. The 
means of travelling in this country are wretched : 
there is not so great a difference between the car- 
riage of the King of England and the worst hackney 
coach on any of the London stands, as between an 
English [>ost chaise, including its smart driver and 
spirited horses, and the conveyances which are to 
be procured on these Flemish roads. 

I was in the outside seat of the diligence, which 
is covered over with a head like that of a one- 
horse chaise. The servant of a British major was 
liext me; a British officer filled the remaining 



45 

place. Wishing to know the name of one of the 
villages through which we passed, I put the ques- 
tion in French to a man standing at the door of a 
cottage. It appeared that he only understood the 
Flemish : my fellow-traveller, the servant, instantly 
called out, with much briskness, — " What is the 
nom of this twite .^" The person to whom he ad- 
dressed himself looked as if he had heard Arabick 
pronounced. My curiosity could not be satisSed, 
but the groom was perfectly so with himself. He 
turned to me, saying,—" I have picked up a little 
of the language, you see sir, while 1 have been at 
Ghent, and that makes it very pleasant." — The 
officer, who, with myself, smiled at this, afterwards 
toid me/that it reminded him of an Irish captain 
in the Greek islands, who used to t?.!k what h£ 
called Italian to the Sicilian and Calabrian ser- 
geants, but of which they could not understand a 
word ; — when he had finished delivering his orders, 
however, he invariably, and with much self-satis- 
faction, motioned the men, who were standing star= 
ing in his face, to withdraw, and then would call to 
his brother officers to know what the devil they 
would do if they had not him to interpret for them 1 
From a picturesque elevation to which we had 
been gradually ascending, I at length saw Brussels. 
About this time, too, we began to meet persons 
walking, as if they had come from a small distance 
for recreation : they carried with them the exter- 
nal British stamp, but the circumstance of so 
walking would have proved them to be country- 
men, for the traveller in general does not meet 
%vith a soul in the neighbourhood of any continen- 
tal town, except persons who shew that they have 
occupations causing them to be on the road. Those 
whom we now saw were chiefly young men, walk" 
ing alone, and there were some others, whom my 
military companion very confidently pronounced 



46 

to be chaplains. Beyond the city, which lay 
downwards from where w^e were, a bhick skirting 
outiine ran along a ridge of high ground : this 
could only be the wood of Soignies ; we assured 
ourselves of this in an instant, — and the wood of 
Soignies it was ! 

We were conducted to an hotel in Brussels 
which I shall avoid naming, because probably 
the remonstrances made to the landlord by several 
of his guests, may have produced an amendment 
of the general conduct of the house. In behalf of 
this, as I found it, nothing can be said. The at- 
tendance was bad ; — the head waiter had been one 
of Buonaparte's soldiers, and could scarcely brook 
to wait on the English. The provision for the ta- 
ble was bv 22 r.:c;;w; 'v^lmt n ought to have been, 
considering the very high rate of the charges. My 
chamber was on the fourth story :— no bells in the 
room, or on the floor. No change of hot water ia 
the morning, or of clean boots, or of any thing that 
might be w-anted, but by bawling, gargon over the 
window, down into the immense depth of the court 
yard ; — after thus exercising one's lungs for half an 
hour, it was possible that some of the several seF- 
vants, male and female, passing to and fro all the 
time within hearing, might deign to turn their 
heads up, and exclaim — " Out Monsieur^ Men — 
^ii?n," — and, in another half hour, it was |,c sible 
that some one of them w^ould come up. 

The first view of the streets of Brussels \vaa> 
most interesting. I was instantly greeted with 
the sight of a red coat, and almost instantly with 
the Scotch bonnet and plaid. The place seemed 
in a throng of English, Scotch, Irish, Prussians, 
Hanoverians, and Belgians, — of officers and pri- 
vates — citizens and military. But not one of the 
fine young men loitering through ihe city were un- 
iiyured : their careless, lively looks, and their gay 



^47 

carriage, struck one, who was just arriving from 
scenes of peace, where the reports of the distant 
war sound terrifically in the ear, as strangely con- 
trasted with their shattered arms and legs, borne 
in slings, or supported on crutches, — their scarred 
faces, and (»ther appearances of bodily debility 
and damage. The convalescent privates, too, 
were all out in their great coats, each giving testi- 
mony by some external sign to the dangers of the 
terrible fray, — but seemingly as settled, happy, and 
familiar, in this foreign town, as they a{ipear in 
Broad-Way, Westminster, or the Bird-€age Walk 
in the Park. It is the necessary property of a 
soldier to be soon at home, for if he were not 
speedy in this, he would seldom or never find him- 
self there. Our nien came bolting out of the 
bakers' shops at Brussels, with their loaves under 
their arms, as unembarrassed as if the language 
and customs of the place were their own ; — they 
were as close in their attentions to the passing 
females, as if the most prepossessing conversations 
had taken place, — whereas they were in fact re- 
stricted to make love by dumb shew. They seem- 
ed, in short, to be in every respect on a most free 
and easy footing with the town's people, and the 
town's people seemed to be on a very cordial one 
with them. 

It happened that on the evening of my arrival 
in Brussels, I was introduced into the military hos- 
pital. The spacious court-yard was crowded with 
brave men, recovering from their wounds, but not 
yet well enough to go abroad. They were walking 
up and down quite unconscious that anj'^ interest 
could be excited by looking at them. These, then, 
were the fine fellows of whom we in England had 
read, and heard, and spoken so much : — these w^ere 
they who had been in the midst of that tremendous 
conflict, tlie very news of which stunned our 



48 

senses, — ^which has justly superseded all the for- 
mer glories of our country, — arid of which the due 
praise is yet to come in the applause of future ages, 
and the celebrations of future genius, raising this 
noble achievement to an equal rauk with the most 
renowned of classicaj days. The men then mov- 
ing quietly before me had been to the shower of 
death where it fell the heaviest ; they had pressed 
forw ard into the very heart of the storm of slaugh- 
ter; they had faced, what appals in contemplation; 
— their presence seemed to realize all that had been 
read in romance; — they afforded the reality of 
what had before been only imagined ; — they im- 
pressed with the substance of those spreading sha- 
dows which move in the mind, as its ideas of those 
great and terrible adventures of which only de- 
scriptions have given it any knowledge. I could 
scarcely avoid feeling a contempt for myself when 
I gazed on these maimed soldiers, the relicks of the 
great tight of Waterloo, — for how much had they 
performed, and what had I done, but come to stare 
at them ! 

My walk along the narrow passages of this dark 
hospital, past the numerous small silent doors lead- 
ing to the beds of the sufferers, w-as even more 
affecting. Young surgeons moved quietly, but 
quickly, in every direction ; and, in a bare looking 
room, I found one of the heads of the Medical 
Staff, surrounded by his inspectors, purveyors, and 
clerks, all occupied with regimental lists, and long 
accounts in columns. Thus it seems, that what is 
poetry to one, may be book-keeping to another. I 
was pleased to hear that the wounded had in gene- 
ral done very well, and that the number of un- 
happy cases was fewer than on any similar occa- 
sion. I afterwards mentioned this inform tion, 
which I had received at the hos|>ital, to an officer, 
and his reply was that the distressed l^ad to thank 



49 

Providence and not the Medical Board. I would 
not willingly render this work the means of sjiread- 
ing an injurious representation, but the complaints 
on this point were so numerous, that it seemed 
scarcely possible that they could be without foun- 
dation ; and, if well founded, it would be a direct 
violation of duty to permit «o fatal a neglect to pass 
without animadversion, it is due to the meritori- 
ous and useful class of men liable to be affected by 
it, to press for i(s correction. Much has been done 
to improve our military economy of late years, that 
reflects the greatest credit on the illustrious person 
at the head of the military administration. The 
departments connected with field preparations, and 
the subsistence of the army, are now constituted 
according to admirable systems, and do away the 
disgrace of our tardiness in making improvements 
in these respects, by the superiority to which they 
have been carried since the work of improvement 
Jhas been set about. 

Brussels had the genera! air of a town thrown 
quite out of its ordinary way. The inhabitants 
Bnd their visitors seemed all animated by the influ- 
ence of a vast holiday : they mingled with each 
other, and filled the streets and public walks, as if 
iheir regular lives had been unsettled by some 
irresistible interference, — as if all the common rules 
of intercourse had been respited, and the usual 
calls of industry and domestic management over- 
powered by more inspiring invitations. People 
seemed to meet each other as they do in a fair, or 
at any public festival, with eyes kindled, and steps 
lightened, — not so much under any one particular 
cause, as in consequence of a general and undefi- 
nable excitement, belonging to the period and the 
place, forming the atmosphere which every mind 
breathed, and giving to each a glowing complexion, 
and a brisk and airy carriage. " This is no time 

6 



50 

to think of hats. Doctor," cried the fellow in the 
election mob to the author of Rasselas, who hap- 
pened to have rather a shabby one on his head. — 
" No," was the Doctor's reply, — " hats are of no 
use now, but to throw up in the air when we shout!" 
This very well represents the lively feeling, pre- 
vailing with the inhabitants of Brussels. Hats 
seemed onl}^ worn to throw up in the air, — that is^ 
to say, the violent impulses given to their spirits by 
extraordinary events, had driven them beyond the 
bounds of concealment, or even reserve ; and the 
succession of certain things which could not but 
have been uppermost in every one's thinking at 
the same instant, and have raised similar feelings 
in every breast, necessarily produced the signs of 
universal intimacy, — for intimacy of manner almost 
alw^ays follows a consciousness of analagous think- 
ing and emotion. It is impossible to look coldly 
in the face of any one whose mind you know to be 
occupied with the same images, and engaged in 
the same way as your own. Hence great emer- 
gencies, perils, and pleasures, always produce a 
cordial and close intercourse betwixt all the par- 
ties to them, however alienated, in common cir- 
cumstances, by difference of condition, temper, or 
sentiment. 

All that had recently occurred here was in a 
most peculiar degree adapted to engender this 
sympathy and frankness, and to add to these a 
tenderness of disposition not without its dangers 
to some. In the houses of the middle and higher 
classes, the officers of our army were billet ted; 
many of them young and good-looking, most of 
them of prepossessing manners, and all of them at 
leisure to practise those assiduities which cannot 
but please, and touch as they please. It was new 
indeed to Brussels, as it would be so generally on 
the continent, to find the military behaving as 



51 

gentlemen,— as if the rules of honour and polite- 
ness were binding on the soldier when quartered 
on the people of a country. The frank unassum- 
ingness and contentedness of the British officers 
and troops, were the themes of eulogium in every 
mouth, and were by ever}^ one contrasted with 
the ferocity, greediness, and insolence of the 
French, — nor were there wanting many complaints 
against those allies of the Netherlanders, the 
Prussians. Hospitable sentiments were thus exci- 
ted in favour of the British, — and the steadiness 
of character, and martial appearance of the Scotch, 
made them in peculiar request as inmates. A lady 
who travelled with me from Brussels to Mons, said 
she had petitioned the proper authorities to send 
her ." les Ecossais ;" they had been mindful enough 
of her request to send h^r four, two Highland grena- 
diers, and two officers. These left her house on 
the evening of the 15th of June, and om returned 
to it wounded ; the others were left on the field- 
She shed tears when she gave me this account,— 
which afforded but one instance of what took place 
generally. After growing from lodgers to be ac- 
quaintances, from acquaintances companions, and 
from companions friends, — after exciting interest, 
kindness, and in many cases affection, — after ap- 
pearing daily at the family meal, and retiring 
nightly with the family to rest, — the cry of war 
suddenly went forth, and they were called away: 
— their entertainers saw them march through the 
darkness to encounter the perils of death. Few 
came back, and those who did, made their appear- 
ance, pale, disftgured, crippled, and bleeding, — their 
once smart dress torn and blackened, their gallant 
air sank in weakness, their smiles of politeness 
changed to the expression of agony and helpless- 
ness. Hospitality and kindness, under these cir- 
cumstances, kindled into the enthusiasm of com- 



passionate and affectionate sensibility. Hearts 
were then in tune for atl that was tender and over- 
flowing, for the feelings excited by the sufferings 
©f others were blended with alarm for themselves. 
The cannon sounded without their gates : the most 
fearful reports were brought into the city, — who 
ivould dare to promise that a shocking fate would 
Bot fall upon it ? In the mean while their brave 
defenders arrived, testifying by their miserable 
plight how gallantly they had struggled to preserve 
Brussels from violation. They were received with 
©pen arms and streaming eyes ; the softest hands 
in each house smoothed the coach of the agonized 
warrior, — the finest faces hung solicitously over it, 
' — the vigilant attentions necessary for his recovery 
were not left to servants ; — wives and daughters 
were led by the finest of motives to take charge of 
the dressings of his hurts, to present his food, to 
anticipate and supply the wants of his painful con* 
dition. 

But all this could not be done safely for that 
virtue in which it originated. I am afraid the 
morals of Brussels have not been improved by the' 
defenders of her independence. A constant ama- 
tory parade seemed going forward in its streets 
and iis park. The convalescent officers and sol- 
diers had but one pursuit ; — and the females, high 
and low, married and single, were to all appear- 
ance abundantly susceptible. They will not soon 
forget (he events of the last eight months, and 
there is reason to fear that much unhappiness may 
result to them, from the seductive pleasures and 
interests of this period, — when their martial friends 
shall have entirely left them to a state of living, 
which, in their excited tempers, cannot but appear 
dull and disgusting, contrasted with the intoxica- 
tions of chivalrous gayety, and the fascinations of 
gallant addresses. It is but too probable that they 



63 

H^Uthen find themselves utterly unfitted to derive 
comfort from what is alone left to comfort them ;— 
that their homes will appear solitudes,^ — their duties 
pains, — and that a long train of domestick discords 
and neglects will shew how fatal in their conse^ 
quences are habits of levity and dissipation. 

The out-of-door dress of the middle and lower 
classes of females in Brussels is very pleasing in its 
general effect. It consists of a black scarf thrown 
over the head, long enough to descend down by the 
shoulders to the waist. It is, 1 believe, of Spanish 
origin, being introduced here by the Spaniards, 
when they were masters of the country. Its shapes 
and the manner of wearing it, very much resemble 
these of the plaid, which may still be seen as the 
Sunday garb of the women in the small counltry 
churches in Aberdeenshire, and other parts of the 
north of Scotland :— 4)ut the many coloured Scotcfe 
tartan has not the genteel, simple, and interesting 
look of the black &hawl of Belgium. There is a 
more decided expression in the continental female 
face than we usually meet with in England : the 
eyes are more predominant in it over the eom-- 
plexion ; they, in consequence, convey a more 
immediate and powerful challenge, — and permit 
less diversion of attention from what is the most 
captivating influence. These black eyes, — these 
colourless but clear complexions, which leave the 
countenance in a fine state for any emotion to 
paint itself with a sudden flow of its proper hue,~~ 
these stealing looks, and dainty steppings, — took 
additional charms from the nun-looking wimple,* 

The whole system of female manners here, in» 
asmuch as it is more natural and true than that of 



* So fair and fresh as fairest flower in May, 
For she had laid her mournful stole aside, 
And widow-like, gad wimpie thrown away, 

6* 



54 

France, may be termed purer, and more grateful 
to the best feelings cherished in regard to the fe- 
male character. Wherever the heart beats with its 
own genuine impulses, circumstances of temptation 
may indeed operate fatally in single instances on 
the susceptibilitj'^, but, as susceptibility is as active 
when fairly interested on the side of duties, as 
when unfortunately it is seduced against them, it 
is quite incompatible with that grossness of profli- 
gacy, which being heartless, is irredeemable. Be- 
sides, it is of the highest importance that the va- 
riety of natural disposition should shew itself;— 
that we should be able to interpret minds as well 
^s things as they are, — and above all, that the ex- 
ternal sign should legitimately represent the inter- 
iial impulse. When this is the case, we have a 
security ; when it is not, we have none. An ex» 
perienced and winning seducer would, beyond a 
doubt, be more successful amongst the young girls 
of a retired English village, accustomed to hear 
their curate preach every Sunday, and to attend 
to what he says, — virtuous in their princi{>les, but 
warm in their aifections, and unsuspecting in their 
tempers, — than among the Demoiselles of Paris, 
guarded as the latter are by duennas, mincing in 
manner, downcast in look, and finical in conver- 
sation. — But, one day^ — the day of marriage, — that 
in which new duties are incurred, and in which 
the female character should assume a higher, purer, 
and more considerate cast, is sufficient to meta- 
morphose the reserve of the latter into licentious^ 
ness, — to change the demure and shrinking girl, 
into the confident, dextrous, and intriguing woman: 
— whereas that one day relieves the former from 
all their dangers, — it instils sanctity and regularity 
into their hearts, — the flow of their natural sensi- 
bilities turns in favour of domestick affections and 
obligation«,—their tenderness, which before expa- 



55 

sed them to peril, becomes the guarantee of their 
virtue, — and, as temptation cannot now assail them 
without at once exposing its real purpose, they are 
safe from its influence. Of course, unhappy ex- 
ceptions will arise, and their number has not of 
late decreased : — but the difiference holds generally 
good, as I have described it. Can there be any 
question as to the comparative purity of those 
respective systems of society, — in one of which 
the danger increases after marriage, and in the 
other exists only before ? 

The great rendezvous for pleasure was in the 
park of Brussels. The Duke of Wellington was 
walking here with some ladies and gentlemen, on 
a I fine summer evening, when the first Prussian 
Aid-de-Camp brought him news that the French 
army under Buonaparte, had burst the Belgian 
frontier : he did not immediately, it seems, believe 
that this was a serious attack, and hesitated to 
commit himself by issuing orders to his troops, 
suspecting Buonaparte of playing some trick ; but 
a second messenger speedily arrived, and decisive 
measures were immediately taken. — The Park, 
when 1 saw it on the evening of the King of the 
Netherland's fete, was crowded with gayety and 
animation : the walks were full of officers, — British^ 
Hanoverian, and Belgian ; — they, of course, brought 
all the ladies of Brussels to the same spot. Almost 
each individual of these several hundreds, had been 
wounded. On entering this scene of shew and 
gallantry, the first person I saw was a German 
youth ,♦ — he belonged to the artillery, and had been 
cut down at his gun, by the enemy's cavalry ; his 
face was notched with their sabres, the deep marks 
being imprinted across and across. A still younger 
lad, whose fine shape wat well shewn in his sharp- 
shooter's uniform, was playing the part of a cox- 
comb very pleasantly : I learnt that he had been 



56 

extravagantly brave in the engagements both of 
the Ibth and 18th, — that he had been wounded in 
both, — and he was now here, an elegant cripple, 
ogling the ladies. The noble, portly-looking Cap- 
tain of a Scotch Regiment, went past, with his arm 
in a sling : he seetned to carry a mild reproof of 
all that was fMntastical or licentious around him, in 
the unpretending dignity, and good-humoured calm« 
ness of an as ect, in which courage sat in com- 
panionship with all the honourable, social, and 
kind qualities. Be was a veteran both in fact and 
appearance : he had fought in all the battles in 
Spain, — and in one of these had been so despe- 
rately wounded, that he went still disabled into the 
fight at Quatre-Bras : here again he was hit, and 
most severely injured. When the regiment to 
which he belongs was hotly engaged with a large 
French column, that was {lOuring into the shattered 
ranks of the Scotchmen a murderous tire of mus- 
quetry, this gentlem.^,n was seen walking slowly 
backwards and forwards in front of his men, re- 
straining those who were breaking out to rush for- 
ward for the purpose of making a desperate and 
premature charge. In fact they were invited ta 
do so by the younger officers, who w^ere roaring 
themselves hoarse in the enthusiasm of the moment, 
and anxious to get, by a violent exertion, out of a 
shower of balls, which every instant was knocking 
down four or five of them. Their more experienced 
companion kept them back till the proper moment, 
and the young men whose over-eagerness he 
checked, told the circumstance after the battle, in 
terms of affectionate and admiring acknowledge- 
ment of the superiour coolness of his courage. 

The story was narrated to me, at a dinner party 
in one of the Brussels hotels, and when the gentle- 
man whom it chiefly concerned, was sitting at 
another table, socially and merrily enjoying him* 



self with good fare and good company, but still suf- 
fering in his person under the hurts which he had 
sustained. It was impossible to look at him in that 
pleasant situation, and listen to the narrative of his 
gallant conduct, when placed in one of so very 
different a description, without being struck by the 
versatility of the dispositions, and the variety of 
the circumstances of human nature. The laughing 
and talking crowd in Brussels' Park, made strong 
and even affecting impressions of the same kind. 
It was but a few months since many of these young 
men parted from anxious mothers, and other not 
less affectionate connexions :— it was but a few 
weeks since they were in the heart of the battle, 
black with gun-powder and sweat, — manly, fierce, 
and terrible,— bleeding, groaning, and dying :— it 
was but a few days since they were extended help- 
less on mattresses, disfigured with bandages, and 
too much occupied with their pains to think of the 
graces or the attractions,— and now they were out 
in a pleasurable promenade, after much careful pre- 
paration at the toilette, leering at the fair, and cast- 
ing not a few complacent looks of regardfulness 
towards the symmetry of their own proportions I 

I met here, bearing the weight of honourable 
wounds, some who had been intimately engaged 
with me in the exploits, embarrassments, enjoy- 
ments, and various interests of our mutual boy- 
hood, and early youth. These former years did 
not promise to them that they would have to sus- 
tain their country's glory in the grandest of those 
fields of death and victory, which illustrate her no- 
ble historj^ : and still less did these years seem to 
intimate to me, that I should have an opportunity 
of helping to commemorate such illustrious doings, 
and of expressing the excited feelings raised by 
the sight of the place where the slaughterous, but 
immortal struggle w^as waged, while the relicks of 



5a 

its fury remained to testify to its horrors, and bear 
witness how much had been suffered and perfrvrmed 
by the combatants, in the power and fortitude of 
their kindled spirits. Such a meeting:, ^^^"^ wa^ 
calculated to give great additional interest, spring-^ 
ing from peculiar circumstances, to scenes and 
events, the general interest of which was of the 
highest order. A word recollected and quoted of 
these our early days, an image recalled, a place 
named, an adventure recounted, came with a force, 
as if the distant things themselves, that formed the 
past, had suddenly leaped to the foreign and most 
dissimilar objects that surrounded us, and that made 
up the present. This was meeting with old ima- 
ginations and feelings, as well as faces in a foreign 
land ; — it was viewing, from the height of Mount 
St. Jean, surrounded by the graves of our country- 
men that had fallen, every step of the roads of our 
lives, all their windings and uncertainties, their 
abrupt arrivals, and their long delays. 

The fete of the King of the Netherlands, to 
which I have before alluded, corresponded, I be- 
lieve, to our celebration of the birth-day of our 
sovereign. It was distinguished by certain popu- 
lar festivities, — such as erecting smooth and soap- 
ed poles in the grand square, called the Pla4;e 
Royale^ with tempting viands placed on their sum- 
mits, to reward those of the mob who should be able 
to cUmb their way to them. This sort of exer- 
cise is a favourite part of the Continental Saturnalia. 
— Buonaparte, it will be recollected, elevated these 
otyects of ambition, to put his people in a good hu- 
mour with the unsatisfactory Acte Additionel aux 
Constitutions de FEmpire^ after the parade of the 
Champ de Mai ha(| given it a pretended sanction. — 
In the evening, the neighbourhood of the Park, 
which is the court end of the city of Brussels, in-^ 
eluding the palaces and publick oSSces, was gene-. 



69 

Mlly illuminated. Bands of musick played to en- 
tertain the collected' populace, who threw squibs 
and other fire-works with great loyalty. There 
was a heartiness visible in the tumult, which ren- 
dered it not unpleasant, and which put me in 
mind of what I had seen in some of the towns of 
Scotland oa similar occasions, where the police is 
not so strict, and where there is not so much occa- 
,8ion for its being so, as to the south of these. 

The soldiery of the various nations mingled 
with the inhabitants, but certainly did not observe 
the most orderly behaviour. It was a picturesque 
spectacle, however, that was afforded by the mix- 
ture of national uniforms and physiognomies. . The 
Hanoverians, in their smart dark dress, seemed in 
general active, dextrous, and spirited; and J heard, 
from various officers, the highest praise given to 
their conduct in the field. The Belgian soldier 
was more awkward, and had, in every respect, less 
of the military air and assurance. — The Bruns- 
wickers were chiefiy hussars, dashing and clever 
in a|)pearance. The Prussians had a look of quick 
ferocity, and lively courage : their grey eyes spark- 
led like those of the hawk, over the mustachoeg 
which hid the expression of the human mouth un- 
der a brindled tuft of hair. The British soldier 
was known among these foreign troops, not more 
by his red coat than by a certain steadiness of 
gait, and open firmness of aspect : — the Scotch 
seemed, more than the others, by their faces, to 
have been trained in the severities of weather, a8 
well as in those of war : — but all bore about with 
them the stamp of real service ; indications that 
they were in the habit of meeting hardships and 
perils as common incidents ; — that what would 
alarm and astound the even dispositions of peace- 
able life, was received by them, without peculiar 
emotion, as in the common course of their habits. 



If hen men of this -description arc of necessity 
made principal in society, — when their accommoda- 
tion must be the chief thing considered, and cir- 
cumstances give scope to the coarseness and wil- 
fulness of their temper, it is easy to conceive that 
much detriment is likely to be sustained by the 
more defenceless classes. In these publick rejoi- 
cings, the soldiers went in among the common 
people with much of savage licentiousness in their 
manner, though with smiles on their faces : it was 
easy to see that opposition only w us wanting to 
make them fierce, and that, without opposition, 
they were insolent and indecorous. One could 
not but shudder at the informatiim which this mo- 
ment of mirth and of plenty gave of what occurs at 
a time of exasperation and need : when the soldier 
on the march must enforce a supply from the cot- 
tager of the unhappy village through which hig 
Toute lies, and where the greediness of ignorant 
and unprincipled individuals, with arms in their 
hands, finds pretext and opportunity in the opera- 
tions of war, and the confusion and carelessness as 
to matters of property and life, which attend those 
tempestuous conflicts of nations that are pretended 
to be in behalf of both. 

There was an air of health, and strength, and 
general carelessness, about these throngs of milita- 
ry, that was striking as a contrast to the usual 
characteristick appearance of collected assemblies 
of human creatures. These commonly include a 
large portion of the infirm, the old, the dejected, 
and the thoughtful : — but the crowds of soldiers 
were all hardy, all bold, all full of vigour and 
spirits ;— no signs of care about them,— no appear- 
ance of concern for themselves beyond a desire of 
immediate animal gratification, — and still less of 
sympathy for others, whether strangers or compan- 
ions. The great bulk of these had left their rela- 



61 

tions, their connexions, the homes of their infancy, 
the village^ of their youthful days, far behind them. 
Yet there was no symptom of repining, and proba- 
bly there was not much of recollection. They 
seemed not only to act literally on the advice of 
taking no thought for to-morrow, but equally to 
avoid giving any thought to yesterday. The offi- 
cers were attentive and affectionate to the ladies 
in Brussels, as many of them had been to the ladies 
of Portugal, of Spain, of Canada, as well as of Ire- 
land, Scotland, and England, and as they would be 
to the ladies of Paris, or of wherever else they 
might chance to go. The privates smoked and 
drank in Brussels as happily as they could smoke 
and drink any where else. This disposition is the 
natural result of the call to which they are perpetu^ 
ally liable. He who may be summoned to leave 
the earth, and all its faces, by one of the thousand 
whistles that have been dancing past his ears for 
hours, cannot afford to suffer acutely on leaving a 
father, a mother, or a wife : — nor is he likely to run 
away for shelter from a shower of rain, who, accor- 
ding to Tritn's pathetick description of his casual- 
ties, — " has been standing twelve hours together in 
the trenches, up to his knees in cold water, — or en- 
gaged for months together in long and dangerous 
marches ;— harrassed perhaps in his rear to-day ; — 
harrassing others to-morrow; — detached here; — ^ 
countermanded there ; — resting this night out upon 
his arms ; — beat up in his shirt the next ; — be- 
numbed in his joints !" But, to one who is liable 
to these things, it becomes of much importance to 
seize and make the mpsi of every passing opportu- 
nity of enjoyment; to allow nothing fanciful in the 
way of regret to interfere with the reality of gra- 
tification :— nor is it to be wondered at, if the 
coarsf st-mmded of those who are so situated, shoidd 
make as lighi of inflicting injury on others, as they 
do of suffering harm in their own persons. It is 

7 



.62 

scarcely to be expected that they should make a 
ve; V oaadful disJribution of compassion, who 
have need of so large a stock of fortitude. We must 
apjdy to Trim again, however, he best understands 
the matter, and how to set it in its proper light ; — 
*' Look along the line — to the right— see ! Jack's 

down ! well, — 'tis worth a regiment of horse to 

Mm. No — 'tis Dick. Then Jack's no worse. 

Never mind which, — we pass on !" 

Before leaving BrusseFs, a few words may be 
said of the city. The country round it, as 1 have 
mendoned, is extremely picturesque; — it is beauti- 
ful both in cultivation and natural variety. The 
walk on the old ramparts presents several most en- 
gaging views : the landscape has the snug happy 
look of English scenery, in which what is grace- 
ful is so well united with what is free, and what is 
wild with what is secure. The previous remarks 
on the apparent poverty of the Flemish towns were 
not meant to convey that the individuals, seen in 
them, were poor or forlorn in apparent condition, 
but that their capacities of large cities did not seem 
to be improved, — that much of them remained un- 
fdled up, — that society seemed on a smaller scale 
than the receptacles which were provided for it* 
But the cousitry places of Flanders (I repeat) pre- 
sent every where happy pictures : the peasant and 
the farmer are evidently in situations of great com- 
fort. The interiour of a small village publick 
house is superabundant in every convenience as 
well as every necessary; and the cottages are well 
furnished. The f^irms are generally small, — a sys- 
tem that provides for mwch individual enjoyment, 
tiio'.ie;h it is not calculated to swell a nation's 
me ins into that greatness of wealth and strength, 
v/hich enables it to take a first rank, and imposing 
attitude, in the community of civilized states, at 
this advanced period of human history. 



63 

It is over a eountpy so distributed, and cultivated 
with tlie most scrupulous attention to neatness, as 
Well as provision^; that the eye wanders from the 
ramparts of Brussels. Interspersed, however, with 
the farms, are the magnificent rural appendages of 
a capital. A long alley, between opposite rows of 
lofty trees, stretches for two miles its shady length. 
The palace of Lacken commands attention by ita 
situation, and is surrounded by beautiful gardens 
and plantations. The large forest of Soignies, 
now so famous, and ever to remain so, forms a vast 
black skirting of all the southern horizon. 

The upper part of the city of Brussels is very 
magnificent. The noble park forms a feature in 
the grandeur of the publick buildings : it is a square 
of great size, laid out in large regular walks, 
finely shaded with trees, and surrounded by the 
fa9adas of the palaces, publick offices, and houses 
of the great. This combination of gardening, 
planting, and architecture is very striking and 
well adapted for a metropolis. It introduces nature 
in a court dress that is very splendid, and does not 
shock the best regulated taste when thus placed in 
the very centre of courtly state and pomp. 

The lower part of Brussels is the old town : Ihe 
streets here are dirty, as are those of all the conti- 
nental towns, but not so close as the streets are 
in most of these. There are quays, and something 
of the bustle of commerce, by the side of the large 
canal. In the neighbourhood of this, I saw the 
great collection of cannon, taken from the French 
in the battles: there were above two hundred 
pieces, guarded by British soldiers, being a trophy 
of war of the most magnificent description. The 
device of causing the dogs to labour, by harness- 
ing them to the small carriages in which the por- 
ters convey, what in most other countries they 
would carry, attracts the attention of the British 



64 

visitors. It is very much in vogue in Holland, 
and forms a bit of vvhat may be called Dutch finish' 
ing, applied to their habits of industry and economy. 
In England we have got beyond this; when things 
are conducted on a great scale, such close atten- 
tion to little matters but wastes time, and furnishes 
excuses for indolence. A stout Thames'-street 
porter, with his knot, is worth twenty dogs for the 
conveying of burthens. 

Publick fountains are interspersed through Brus- 
aels, — one of them is ludicrous, but not very deco- 
rous. It is said that Louis the Fifteenth, in his 
extreme regard to decency, made the child a pre- 
sent of an am})!e wardrobe, which was used on pro» 
cession days, that the modesty of the image of the 
Virgin might not be shocked. 

The market-place of Brussels is superbly beau- 
tiful, but in a very different style of architecture 
from that which characterizes the buildings around 
the royal f)ark. The exquisite Gothick spire of the 
Hotel de Ville seems the work of fairy hands, from 
its carved and florid lightness, scarcely supporting 
its elegant loftiness. The fronts of the halls of the 
trading companies are all wrought in the same way, 
with ancient inscriptions, complicated ornaments, 
and all those ingenious overdoings which arise 
from the ill-regulated ambition of skill and talent. 
There is, however, a captivating harmony in the 
proportions of these Gothick edifices in the Low 
Countries. 

The Cathedral of Brussels is not distinguished 
by any very peculiar beauties ; it is, however, 
large and noble-looking. The French had stripped 
the churches here, as well as everj^ where else that 
their hands could reach to. No local association, 
no feeling of attachment or veneration, no pro-- 
priety or advantage of position, or right of pro- 
perty, was ever regarded in effecting the&e barba<> 



65 

pous removals. Thej'- were perpetrated in a cruel 
coldness of heart, and the restoration has been 
made by France in unexampled humiliation of 
character and condition. 

When I was in Brussels it appeared populousj 
b\it that appearance was caused by the number of 
military to which it was then giving temporary 
homes. In common times, its very considerable 
size is out of all proportion with the scantiness of 
its population. It is described as seven miles in 
circumference, — yet, when it lately formed a part 
of the French empire, it was not supposed to hold 
above seventy-five thousand inhabitants. British 
visitors and emigrants, however, have in former 
times shewn, and are now again shewiiig, a prede- 
liction for this charming city, which is likely to 
render it more animated than it has been during 
the late dark and unnatural period. Its attractions 
are palpable and strong; the air is salubrious; the 
country pleasant ; provisions and the necessaries 
of living are generally cheap,— and the peo{)le of 
the most agreeable disposition. The court of Brus- 
sels, while it will always give distinction enough 
to the place to recommend it to persons of genteel 
habits, and those who are fond of a little parades- 
is not likely to be very difficult, or to place itself 
at any very inaccessible distance, — but, on the 
contrary, it will probably hold out the temptation 
of access to its parties and ceremonies to those who 
would at home rest within a secondary circle of so- 
ciety. This will be no slight invitation to numbers 
from the United Kingdoms. The government of the 
Low Countries is mild and free in its practice and 
its principles; and there is, in short, a general ap- 
proximation in them to what the British most 
highly prize in their native land, — while they sup- 
ply much that cannot now be there enjoyed bat 

by a very few. 

7 * 



66 



CHAPTER VL 

It was at one u'clock on the morning of the 
16th of June, 1815, that the echoing bugle sounded 
through the streets of Brussels, summoning every 
soldier to his proper rendezvous. Orders had been 
previously issued for every one to be in readiness 
to march; but the final decision does not seem to 
have been made by the Duke of Wellington in his 
own mind when he first heard of the attack of the 
French on the advanced guard of the Prussians. 
Perhaps he waited till he thought that the com- 
mands, transmitted immediately on his receiving 
this news, to the various divisions of his army, can- 
toned at different distances from Brussels, would 
have so operated, that something like combination 
and order of movement would take place; or, per- 
haps, he waited to receive further confirmation and 
acquire certainty as to the manoeuvres of the 
French. 

We have heard a good deal here of the Duke's 
being taken by surprise. It has been suggested, 
that he and his force ought to have been nearer 
the frontier supporting the Prussians, and to stem 
immediately any advance of the enemy. I was at 
some pains to ascertain what might be the general 
opinion of the officers, concerned in these glorious 
affairs, on this point. 1 think it will not be invi- 
dious to say, that the seutiment of the majority 
seemed to be, that, if the Duke's information had 
been complete, as to the plans and movements of 
the enemy, he would most likely have been con- 
siderably in advance of Brussels at the moment of 
the first attack. But the most judicious military 
men affirmed J that such advance could only have 



er 



been prudently made in positive certainty of the 
intentions of Buonaparte, which certainty could 
only be acquired by his committing himself to de- 
cisive proceedings. To have taken up a position 
in anticipation of the campaign, near the Prussian 
army, v^ould, as the best authorities agree, have 
been bad generalship on the part of the British 
Commander. Buonaparte would thus have had 
more scope for manoeuvring, and an opportunity 
for putting in play those tricks and devices that 
are his favourites, but which, although dextrous, 
do not generally emanate from the highest order 
of intellects. It was absolutely necessary, for the 
purpose of subsistence, that the large military force 
occupying the Netherlands, should be distributed 
over the country ; but, setting that aside, it is one 
of the most invariable rules of military tacticks to 
station, close to the front of the enemy, only a 
force sufficient to maintain a retarding resistance 
till it can be supported. The Prussian army was, 
no doubt, thought, by its own gallant Commander, 
to be fully equal to this ; and the Duke of Wel- 
lington, when at Brussels, was placed so as to 
guard against any rapid attempt, either to cut ofif 
our communications with the coast, or to throw the 
fury and pressure of the war on a point less pre- 
pared for defence, than that there where the Prus- 
sians v/ere collected. J' 

The Duke's fixing his head-quarters at Brussels, 
up to the very moment of the blow's being struck, 
is, therefore, only a proof of his talent for good ar- 
rangement, and of the soundness and caution of 
his views; — the question is, whether he oug;ht to 
have had earlier information than the messages 
sent by Prince Blucher, that Buonaparte had com- 
mitted himself to decisive operations according to 
that plan which, as it turned out, was in reality 
adopted by the French leader. This question it is 



68 

not very easy to answer. We have seen nothing 
in the Duke of Wellington's military character, as 
displayed in his career, to render it tolerable that: 
in the vagueness of uninformed speculation, he 
should be charged with gross want of care. It is 
not pretended that he was not most sensibly alive 
to the responsibility of his situation at the late ter- 
rible crisis, both as it concerned his own fame, and 
his country's fortunes. All that he had achieved was 
to be as nothing, or to be doubled in value, accord- 
ing as he might now succeed or fail. It is well 
understood that he felt this, — and if he did, is it 
likely that he, being noted over Europe for caution 
and vigilance, should, at this most interesting and 
important instant, be peculiarly remiss ? — On the 
other hand, it is easy to conceive, that the Duke 
was sufficiently sanctioned, according to every 
pro{)er military consideration, in acting as he did : 
—if Buonaparte's thorough, and unexpectedly ra- 
pid discomfiture is to be traced, in any considerable 
degree, to the clumsiness and unsoundness of his 
operations in this w ar for his existence as a ruler, — 
it does not appear to be fair to claim of the Duke 
of Wellington, that he should have anticipated the 
commission of gross errours on the part of his 
enemy, more particularly when it is remembered 
how high the military reputation of that enemy 
stood in the almost universal belief. It seems very 
probable, from all that can be learned on the sub- 
ject, that the British Commander in Chief, was 
slow to credit that Buonaparte intf nded to embark 
so decidedly in the momentous struggle, with the 
very slender means for withstanding the coalition 
of Europe, which he had collected. If His Grace 
believed, as it was likely he should, to a certain 
extent, the published declarations of the French 
Imperial authorities as to what they could 60 in the 
way of raising men, he would naturally be led to 



69 

imagine, that many more than the French camp op- 
posite to him contained, would be raised and brought 
forward, under the imperial standard, before great 
movements were made. A good player is not called 
upon to calculate on very rash or foolish conduct 
on the part of his adversary. It is more to his ho- 
nour, if he be prepared to meet the most skilful 
attempts, and, at the same time, be sharp enough to 
repel and disappoint desperation or obstinacy. 
The Duke of Wellington fully merits this praise ^ 
— if he was taken by surprise, it was not to be de- 
feated, but to defeat the enemy who surprised 
him,— as indeed that enemy has astonished almost 
every body else in the world, but by no means to 
his own ultimate advantage or renown. 

When the Duke pronounced the final word, the 
bugle sounded,— and this was, as I have said, at 
one o'clock of the morning of the sixteenth of June. 
It struck on many thousands of ears through the 
darkness, but few did it awaken that night from 
sleep. The ofScers of our army had been in a 
bustle of preparation for the previous hours since 
the evening, when they received the orders to hold 
themselves in a state of readiness. Brussels was 
agitated and anxious in all her hearts : every house 
was the scene of adieus, not the less tender and 
sorrowful on account of the shortness of the inti- 
macy that had preceded them. The young men 
that had not been very provident, were in a flutter 
trying all sorts of expedients to procure a few 
necessaries for the march. Relations and intimate 
friends, belonging to different regiments, hurried 
together for an instant, to shake hands and charge 
each other with short confidential commissions, to 
be discharged by the surviver. One affecting 
instance of this sort I know : two officers, con- 
nected by intimate ties, and attached by the clos- 
est friendship, spent a part of this eventful eveo^ 



70 

ing together ; but they were soon forced to sepa- 
rate to attend to their respective urgent duties. 

They were not in the same regiment : — one was 
known to inquire for his friend, of a soldier who 
passed by, just before he went into action, — th« 
other made a similar inquiry, when engaged in hot 
fire, and heard from a wounded sergeant who was 
going to the rear, that he was never again to see 
his companion. Shortly after this, the last inquir- 
er was hit himself, but he has recovered of hi» 
wound. There is something very striking in these 
has(y interrogations put by a soldier concerning a 
comrade^whom he had but lately left in the full 
enjoyment of health and spirits : — interrogations 
that are very likely to be cut short as they are 
put, by the fate, dreaded for a friend, falling on him 
"who cherishes the solicitude. 

The spectacle in Brussels, as the troops were 
collecting and falling into their ranks, is described 
to have been most peculiar and impressive. It 
could not fail to be so. The darkness soon gave 
way a little, as the first light of a summer morning 
broke through the edge of the sky ; but the candles 
still continued to shine through the windows, 
shewing that there had been no one at rest during 
the night ; and their pale hue, as the morning ad- 
vanced, gave a melancholy sickly character to the 
look of the streets, corresponding with the general 
feeling of tiie spectators who crowded to see gal= 
lant men go forth to death. The light was scarcely 
sufficient, before the march commenced, to disco- 
ver faces ; — feathers, flags, and bayonet points, 
were all that could be seen. They went on and 
off, and gathered and formed, in a hazy obscurity. 
Mounted officers emerged rapidly from the deep 
shadows that lay in the distances r loud cries were 
heard causing a confusion that soon, however, 
Settled itself into military regularity. Women 



n 

who had bidden farewell at home, could not be 
satisfied with that, but came forth, and stood, in 
flight neglected clothing, at the corners by which 
they knew their friends would pass, — almost 
ashamed of their own feelings, but unable to resist 
the wish to gain one more look, and receive one 
other pressure of the hand. Our officers speak 
with enthusiasm of the sigiis of affectioo shewn to 
th. m at this affecting moment by their Brussels' 
hosts and hostesses. A friend of mine was era- 
braced by his laniliord at the instant of partings 
and made to promise that if any accident should 
Sen<l lum back to Brussels, he would return to the 
house wiiere he had been long and kindly enter- 
tained. The promise was kept : one day only in- 
tervened befvjie the officer made his ap[)earance 
again at the door of this good citizen. He presented 
himself bleeding, exhausted, dnd in agony : his 
inviter received him with open arms;'--" now," 
said he, " you have made me your Xriend for ever^ 
for you have observed your promise, and have 
shewn that you relied on my sincerity." Every 
possible attention was extended to the wounded 
officer for the several months of his slow recovery, 
and there was as much delicacy in the manner of 
these attentions, as heartiness in the disposition by 
which they were dictated. 

The hasty march was lotig and painful. The 
officers, though they very well knew that the 
enemy had attacked the Prussians, did not think 
that they were off their road to immediate battle. 
But the fact WHS so. The divisions of our array 
were at this time all making their way to the point 
of concentration fixed upon by their commander* 
the whole dreadful ttiachine was now in motion, — - 
no one part comprehending its relation to the 
others, but the eye of the mover superintending 
and understanding alL 



n ^ 

The Duke of Wellington remained for some 
hours in Brussels after the troops had quitted it: — 
he probably waited to hear news from the more 
distant divisions of his army, in reply to the orders 
sent them over-night. The officer of a Scotch 
regiment was sent down to a village to procure 
some water, with a small party from his battalion, 
which was at a little distance : the road which the 
Duke took lay through this village : he was passing 
at the instant, dressed in a grey frock coat, follow- 
ed by four or five gentlemen in military great coats, 
and trotting his horse not very quickly. He re- 
turned the otficer's salute, aiid then suddenly stop- 
ped. There was a good deal of anxious, not to 
say troubled thought in his countenance. He 
named several regiments to the person whom he 
had thus met, and asked if any thing had been 
heard of them ? The otficer replied that he had 
heard nothing. The Duke hastily pnlled out his 
watch, — considered for half a minute, — and then, 
again touching his hat, rode on. 

It was about one o'clock of the forenoon of the 
sixteenth, that the oJBficers and men of one particu- 
lar regiment, as they were marching forward ci.re- 
lessly enough, debating whether they were likely 
to see French troops within a week, heard a dis- 
tant sound that carried with it a concussion that 
went to all their hearts, though not to sink them. 
It was the rumble of cannon. They had been too 
often engaged in Spain not to be well acquainted 
with the Intimation. A new impulse was now 
given to all : a serious smile broke out on every 
face, and each body bent forward. The few wo- 
men, permitted to accompany the regiment, were 
affected differently. Some of them began to weep 
in the prospect of what was likely now soon to 
occur ; but the old female campaigners shewed a 
hardihood not inferiour to that of the soldiers, but 



73 

unpleasant, because unnatural, and unmixed with 
any thing gallant. 

The battle, as is well known, had been for some 
hours maintained by the BrunsAvickers and Bel- 
gians, before the British could get up. Ney, who 
commanded the division of the French army op- 
posed to these, was pressing them back, when the 
British regiments began to arrive one by one. — 
Each, as it arrived, marched directly into the field, 
and took up its position. They became gradually 
enojaged according to the direction given by the 
enemy to his o[)erHtions. A Scotch regiment was 
for a considerable time unemployed by any French 
column, though exposed to a tire of round shot. 
The officers, who had a complete view of the field, 
saw the 42d, and other battalions, warmly engaged 
in charging : — the young men could not brook the 
contrast presented by their inactivity. — " It will," 
said they, " be the same now as it always has been ! 
— the 42d will have ail the luck oi it. There will 
be a fine noise in the newspapers about that regi- 
ment, but devil the word of us." Some of their 
elders consoled them by assuring them of the pro- 
bability that, before the day was over, " they would 
have enough of it." This regiment was one of 
those that suffered the most; and the greater nuni- 
ber of those fine-spirited youths who expressed this 
impatience, were laid on the field, in cold and 
silent lifelessness, before the evening. 

It is impossible, or at least it would be most im- 
proper, to pass this affecting fact, without noticing 
the testimony it coaveys in favour of the utility of 
that freedom and fidness of |)ubIication which is by 
no means so generally liked as it is praised. It 
%vould be ditficuit to suggest any other in Uscement 
that would have so powerful an effect in stimulating 
the zeal of these gallant soldiers, as our newspa- 
pers, according to their own confession, have. 



< ^ 74 

Nor would a press, under the direction and con- 
trol of government, possess half so much efficacy. 
In journals so regulated, all communications are 
tamed down to a general insipidity, — they avoid 
all those discussions of particular points and com- 
parative merits that are most interesting to the 
feelings : they detect little or nothing, and the 
repetition of the language of the official dispatch is 
all that the publick would receive from them to 
inspire their sensibility, and direct their judgment, 
relative to great publick enterprizes. Individu- 
als have little to hojje or to fear from such no- 
tices. But a newspaper press that is free to inves- 
tigate and to question ; that is directed according 
to the competition of personal interests, and must 
therefore ever be on the alert to satisfy curiosity 
and affect opinion — such a press is the most pow- 
erful means that can be imagined of inflaming the 
ambition of the generous, and keeping the careless 
and ill-disposed to their duty. 

Soon after three o'clock, the Duke of Welling- 
ton rode into that part of the field of battle which 
is close to the village of Quatre-Bras. He was 
followed by his staff, which was not however very 
Eumerous. He halted a few yards in front of the 
92d regiment, and exposed to a very heavy fire of 
round shot and grape. He spoke little or nothing : 
his look was that of a man quite cool, but serious, 
and perhaps something anxious. He looked in- 
tently at various parts of the field where there was 
firing going on, and often pulled out his watch, as 
if calculating on the arrival of the regiments not 
yet come up. He said something, at one of these 
times, about when the cavalry might be expected. 
The shot, in the mean while, was plunging into, 
and along, the ground, close to him. He had not 
been long in the field before the arm of a gentle- 
man, with whom he had just been in conversation, 



7§ 

was carried oflf by a ball. The suflerer was in- 
stantly removeil, — but His Lordship was not ob- 
served to take any notice of the unpleasant affair. 
It is thought a good, and even humane rule, to act 
in this apparently unconscious way, in these situa- 
tions where neither spirits nor time must be wasted : 
all the relief that can be given to the injured is in 
waiting for them, and expressions of sympathy, or 
even its appearance, would but dissipate attention, 
and perhaps subdue courage. — On one occasion, in 
Spain, His Grace, then Lord Wellington, was 
riding hastily along the road, followed by his Statf, 
and several distinguished generals, while the French 
artillery was playing upon them very severely. 
The object was to get as speedily as possible out 
of so exposed a situation ; but, before this was 
effected, a cannon ball struck Lord Hill's horse 
behind, and came out at his chest. The poor ani- 
mal tumbled down head foremost, and its rider of 
course was precipitated with it most violently to 
the ground. Some of the persons around were 
reining in, to inquire as to the fate of His Lordship^ 
who seemed to be killed as well as the animal, but 
their commander called out that all should go on, 
Lord Hill would be attended to by the soldiers. 

Shortly after the first mentioned accident occur- 
red at Quatre-bras, the Duke dismounted from his 
horse, and causing his staff to do the same, sat upon 
the ground for a short time. The regiments, as 
they came up, entered the field by the road near 
which his Grace was : the balls were perpetually 
flying in amongst them; one carried off the knap- 
sack of a private from his shoulders ; It went to a 
considerable distance, but the man ran after it, 
and brought it back, amklst the loud laughter of all 
those who saw the thing happen. 

The Brunswick cavalry were charged back upon 
this point by the French cuirassiers. The Duke 



76 

retired from before their charge. Our officers de- 
scribe the courage of these French dragoons as ex- 
traordinary, but add, that it had an intoxicated in- 
flated character, which seemed glad to sustain 
itself by a flighty desperation. It was too inde^ 
pendent of discipline and system : as it went be- 
3'ond the necessity on some occasions, there was 
no security that it should not fall below the need 
on others. There was no steadiness of spirit visi- 
ble in the conduct of these troops, but their briskr 
ness seemed of the kind that is very apt to evapo- 
rate. Individuals of them would ride out from 
their ranks, challenging and calling to their adver- 
saries : a British soldier seldom behaves in this 
way; he does his duty, and this is doing all; he 
does not go beyond the line of this to seek, nor 
will he retire within it to avoid. He is therefore 
the one most to be depended upon. 

These cuirassiers received some terrible fires as 
they approached the infantry : men and horses 
came tumbling down in heaps. One of them fell 
wounded, a few yards before our bayonets: a 
Scotchman went out in the fury of the moment to 
dispatch him. The Frenchman was sitting on the 
ground : he saw his destroyer coming with the 
point of the bayonet extended toward him, — ^yet he 
did not change countenance, except to put on a 
smile of whimsical remonstrance just as his enemy 
came up close : — shrugging up his shoulders, and 
extending his hands, he exclaimed, in ^a tone of 
good humoured appeal,— -" J /i. Monsieur Anglaisf^ 
The Highlander was softened. " Go to the rear 

you ," was the reply. The poor Frenchman 

made a shift to crawl, but with smiles on his face^ 
where his conqueror directed. 

Some of these cuirassiers made their way to the 
very rear of our lines, and two or three came back 
galloping, shouting, and brandishing their swords. 



77 

They received the whole fire of a battalion. One ^ 
man still kept on his horse. He had the hardihood 
to cut with his sword at the infantry as he passed. 
A Hanoverian met him in combat and wounded 
him : he would not give up his sword but to an 
officer, — his enemy was on the point of putting 
him to death, when one of our officers interfered 
and saved his life. 

The Duke again took up his old ground :— the 
battle was now spreading. An officer belonging 
to the battalion close behind His Grace, suddenly 
observed a large column of French infantry ap- 
proaching. He exclaimed hastily and loudly — 
" there is a body of them !" The Duke heard what 
was said, and gently, without any alteration of 
manner, turned his horse's head in the direction to 
which the officer pointed, and moved slowly that 
way. " Yes," said he, " there is a considerable 
body there-^ a considerable number indeed." Then, 
without altering his quiet tone, — " Colonel, you 
must charge." — The charge was made, and other 
charges succeeded, the whole of which were suc- 
cessful, but scarcely a wreck of that gallant bat- 
talion returned,— and that small remainder was 
reduced to a remainder of itself on the glorious 
but dreadful 18th. 

In the course of these charges, an officer pressing 
on, keeping his men up, felt a Frenchman throw 
his arms about his legs, and heard him imploring 
his protection to save his life. The person thus 
addressed, was too much occupied with his work, 
to pay instant attention to the supplication, but 
the wounded man entwining his grasp still more 
closely, and entreating by the love of God, the 
officer put back the soldier who was about to 
plunge his bayonet into the breast of the unfortu- 
nate Frenchman, who remained on the ground. 
His preserver was very soon in a situation of simi- 



rs 

lar distress : he was struck by a grape-shot, and, 
when scarcely supporting himself to the rear, he 
again passed the Frenchman, who was then sitting 
up gazing about him at the battle : — they exchanged 
silent looks, and parted, to remain in utter igno- 
rance of each other's fates, though the one had 
been the object of a service rendered by the other, 
the most important that man can render to his fel- 
low. 

Many of our men when hit by the balls, became 
exasperated and threw their muskets from them 
in a rage. All sense of mercy, and even of de- 
cency, became extinct in the bosoms of the majo- 
rity under these dreadful circumstances. The sol- 
diers stopped to strip their fallen companions, as 
they passed on over their bodies, and the coarse 
joke, and the unfeeling taunt were but too fre- 
quently heard to break from lips that were likely 
the nest minute to be quivering in their last prayer, 
or sealed for ever without having had time to put 
it up. The men were heard to make very differ- 
ent observations according to the different charac- 
ters borne by those who fell. — Over one they 
would sigh and say, " Ah, poor fellow !" and then 
go on with loading their muskets ; — while the 
corpse of another would be turned aside with the 
foot, and " lie there," be sulkily muttered. 

The military operations that led to the battle of 
the 18th, are generally known, and are to be found 
recorded in the proper quarters. I ^orae too late 
to give a TegtiiaT narrative, — my only object is to 
afford such illustrations of character, in anecdotes 
of conduct, (fee. as were most interesting to myself 
when I heard them narrated, and which I do not 
know to have been as yet put before the publick, at 
least in a way sufficiently prominent. The reader 
will have the goodness to observe th:\t this is all 
i pretend to do :— -had I written earlier, I shoulii 



r9 

have wished to have made this work a history of 
these great engagements, — but it would now be 
impertinent to suppose any one ignorant of what 
has been, in so many shapes, put within his reach. 
Things however that mostly address themselves to 
the feelings, will never be taken up by two writers 
in the same way; and, at all events, I am tempted 
to make a collection of those accounts that chiefly 
struck my attention, when on the memorable spot, 
conversing with those who had been active, and 
had suffered in the cause of their country's honour. 
— But, I repeat, that a regular statement of the 
facts of the battles, as they occurred, is not to be 
expected here, nor any thing like an enumeration 
of all that ought to be enumerated to give a pejfect 
idea of their course, and of what was done and sus- 
tained for England on these great days. 

When the armj'^ under the Duke of Wellington 
was retreating on the 1 7th, to keep up its corres- 
pondence with the Prussian army under Prince 
Blucher, that had been worsted by Buonaparte,- — 
some very extraordinary instances of personal he- 
roism were shewn by the commanders of our ca- 
valry, who covered the retreat. The Marquis of 
Anglesea, then Lord Uxbridge, a lieutenant-gene- 
ral, and comoaanding the horse, displayed consum- 
mate personal valour, in the sight of the admiring 
men, — and, as the army was then pressed upon by 
a very superiour force, and was altogether in most 
critical circumstances, — while the cavalry on our 
side had scarcely yet been engaged, not having 
been up on the 1 6th, — it was perhaps not less pru- 
dent than gallant to inspire our troops with good 
spirits, and rouse their emulation, by these dis- 
plays of the gallantry and dash of their superiours. 
The men had heard tremendous accounts of the 
cuirassiers,— and a private of the Life Guards told 
me, that it was the general talk among themselvesj 



that there was very little use in going against fel- 
lows who had got armour on. If this was the feel- 
ing of the troops, and more particularly as the army 
was in retreat, and it was pretty well known that 
it would have to maintain a desperate struggle, 
the officers were fairly called upon to shew a no^ 
ble devotedness, and an animating cheerfulness, in 
the sight of those whom they commanded, — -and 
this they finely did. The Marquis of Anglesea 
was in the rear of the last troo[) of cavalry, when, 
looking behind him, he observed a French regi- 
ment formed across the road to charge. He in- 
stantly turned round, and alone galloped back 
towards the enemy, waving his hat to his soldiers 
who had advanced some way on their retreat, and 
were at a considerable distance from their General. 
Major Kelly, of the Horse Guards, I believe, was 
the first person to join His Lordship at full gallop, 
and these two heroes remained alone for a minute 
or two, close in front of the French, who stirred 
not, amazed as it wouki seem by the gallantry 
which they^ witnessed. The regiment soon came 
up, and dashed pell-mell amongst the enemy, who 
were entirely overthrown. 

On all the three days, so arduous was the service, 
and critical its circumstances, that our superiour 
officers felt it to be an incumbent duty to expose 
themselves in a very marked manner. The men 
were called upon to perform moie than common, 
and their leaders felt that to have this claim upoa 
them, they must set an example of uncommon exer- 
tion. To the prevalence of this noble sentiment 
"we may trace the heavy loss of distinguished offi- 
cers. But, although on this occasion our generals 
and superiour regimental officei*s acted the part 
of forlorn hopes, this is| not so commonly the 
case in the British army as in the French ; nor 
need it, or should it be the case, where duty is 



81 

regularly and judiciously distributed, and faithfully 
and steadily performed. The French soldiers 
have a wilfulness, and require invitations and ex- 
citements, that are unknown and unnecessary in 
our ranks. A French soldier will call out to hig 
officer, " Come Sir, shew the way, and I'll follow 
you :" — Their leaders must act in bravado, or 
their troops will do nothing : the former are t^-ere* 
fore frequently to be seen, out in front of their men, 
in small groupes, execrating, stamping, and bran- 
dishing their swords against their adversaries. — ■ 
All, in fact, is done with them under the force of 
artificial impulse, causing what is called a working- 
U|>* — whereas the British do all in the simple readi- 
ness of their natures. But these French officers 
often excited the greatest admiration of their brave- 
ry by their exploits in the sight of our ranksi* 
They were commonly fine young men, who threw 
themselves in the way of death, and generally met 
with it. 

Our soldiers, though not expecting nor requiring 
to be thus drawn on, yet exercise very freely among 
themselves the right of discussing the comparative 
courage of their officers : — one of the latter told 
me, that, on a night in Spain, when he was upon 
out-post duty, he overheard some of his men con- 
versing over the merits and spirit of their respec-^ 
tive officers with little of reserve or delicacy. 
They shrewdly observe, and strictly remember, 
any symptom of too cautious a regard for personal 
safety : and any one who is too careful of himself^ 
receives but little of their respect. 

Tt has been well observed, that these engage- 
ments seem to have combined all the energy and 
interest of the personal combats of ancient war- 
fare, with the vast manoeuvring and terrible thun- 
dering of the modern military practice. Our ca- 
valry, on the 18th, were occupied in a constant 



82 

series of desperate individual adventures. Shaw, 
the famous boxer and Horse Guardsman, distin- 
guished himself peculiarly among the most distin- 
guished. The line of cavalry, at the commence- 
ment of the engagement, was drawn up a little in 
the rear of the eminence on which our infantry 
was arrayed : they could not in this situation see 
much of the battle, but the shot and shells flew 
thickly amongst them, which they were compelled 
to sustain without moving. Nothing tries a gallant 
spirit more than this. Shaw was hit, and wounded 
in the breast: his officer desired him to fall out: 
"Please God," said this brave fellow, "I sha'nt 
leave my colours yet." Shortly after, orders came 
down, that the cavalry should advance : the whole 
line moved forward to the top of the hill. Here 
they saw our artillery-men running from their 
guns, attacked by heavy masses of French dra- 
goons. " It was agreed among ourselves," said a 
private to me, " that when we began to gallop we 
should give three cheers, — but our's was not very 
regular cheering, — though we made noise enough." 
The Scotch Greys made charges that were per- 
fectly romantick: " those brave fellows, will get 
themselves utterly cut to pieces," said some of the 
British generals, when viewing them, a mere hand- 
ful of men, plunging into vast solid masses of French 
horse. It was observed by a French marshal to 
some distinguished British officers at Paris, that 
the British were the only troops in the world that 
could be trusted in lines against columns : they 
would stand or advance, two deep, against a mass 
some yards in thickness. When the gallantry of 
men can be thus relied upon, they derive a great 
advantage from their bravery, tending to counter- 
act the effects of the superiour numbers of their 
adversaries, — for they are thus enabled to employ 
every bayonet they have, instead of sinking the 



majority as a foundation for supporting the few. 
In tills way, a single Brilisli battalion, consisting 
of one hundred or two hundred men, repeatedly 
drove at immense columns of the enemy contain- 
ing some thousands. Our noble fellows were con- 
tent if they could but make out a front something 
like that opposed to them ; they cared not hovr 
few they had to back themselves, nor how many 
their adversaries had to support them. The 92d,* 
when there did not remain to it much more than a 
hundred men, threw themselves over a hedge 
directly against a mass of the Imperial Guard. 
The latter stood till the Scotch came close up to 
them. Some firing took place : these terrible ad- 
versaries looked each other full in the face, while 
they coolly levelled their muskets. At length the 
few of the 92d made the final charge with the bayo- 
net. The French Guards stood still, but it was 
but for a moment : before the steel reached them, 
they had turned their backs, — but too late to avoid 
it. At this moment the Scotch Greys poured in 
upon the enemy as a t5ood ; they took fifteen hun- 
dred prisoners, and actually, as an eye-witness said, 
" walked over the French.'''' 

This thorough courage, however, which encoun- 
ters any thing and every thing, demands much 
prudent management, and watchful superintendance 
on the part of the Commander in Chief. The 
small bodies of British must not be trusted to 
themselves too long ; even victory would soon ab- 
solutely expend them. I understand that the ex- 
cellent generalship of the Duke of Wellington is 
wonderfully shewn in the timely preparations that 
are always made, under his orders and directed by 
his eye, to sustain and support his troops at the 
proper moment. A regiment finds that, just as it 

* A Highland corps. 



84 

has almost exhausted itself, ami become involved 
in serious circumstances, another most opportunely 
steps up and relieves it. This regularly occurring 
in the moment of emergency, our troops have now 
a thorough confidence that it will always occur, 
and never hesitate to go at whatever comes be- 
fore them, leaving to their general the task of 
getting them well through the business. 

But to return to the cavalry charges. The 
guards first encountered a regiment of cuirassiers : — 
Shaw, already noticed, was with one or two other 
brave fellows a little advanced beyond the line, 
talking, as one of his comrades told me, as pleasantly 
as if he were in Hyde Park. The French did not 
stand the charge : they returned " and then," said a 
dragoon, " we had nothing to do, you know, but to 
ride with them, and work away." Our brave fel- 
lows rode through them into a column of infantry, 
which they broke. A regiment of French lancers 
afterwards met the shock of the Horse Guards, and 
great slaughter ensued. Those who fought on that 
day are generally of opinion that the cuirassier is 
by no means the most formidable adversary, that 
his armour rather incommodes him, and retards his 
exertions than protects him; — but the lancer, they 
speak of as a dangerous fellow^ — as one whom it is 
a serious thing to meet. It is to be hoped, there- 
fore, that the cuirass will not be introduced into 
our cavalry : it might please a foppish taste by its 
glitter, but the very imitation w'ould be an unwor- 
thy concession to those" whose bucklered fronts our 
troops have broken with their naked breasts. Let 
us by all means still keep up this fine distinction; 
— it would shew the grossest want of sensibility to 
what is most glorious in these victories, to ape 
those whom we have beaten. Let the British sol- 
dier still go out to battle as heretofore, with the 
open face of his country, divested of the artificial 



8^ 

terrours of mustachoes, and free to shew the genu- 
ine kindling of his spirit ; — let his bosom have, as 
it needs no armour but the heart within it. 

As the day advanced, the cavalry scoured the 
whole field, and the men got together in small par- 
ties : — in this way they encountered bodies of the 
French, and fought it out with their swords. In a 
lane, up which our troops pursued a considerable 
number of the enemy, and egress from which was 
shut up, a terrible slaughter took place. Very 
little quarter was given on either side. The pas- 
sions of the combatants had become terribly exas- 
perated. There is scarcely a surviving man of 
our cavalry but has to say that he put to death 
several of the enemy with his own hands;— these 
regiments, however, suffered terribly themselves. 
The French are allowed, according to every testi- 
mony, to have had at least double the number of 
effective horse that we had: their superiour pro- 
portion of heavy dragoons gave them great advan- 
tages. Our light cavalry was found of little or no 
use against these ponderous enemies. An opposi- 
tion newspaper, I remember, ridiculed the measure 
of sending out the Horse Guards, as a piece of 
driveling folly, but what should we have done 
without them ? Deplorable and ruinous would 
most probably have been the consequences, if a 
provision of this description of force had not been 
made. In fact, our heavy dragoons may be con- 
sidered as the salvation of our army on the 1 8th, — • 
as it is clear that Buonaparte intended and expect- 
ed that his heavy dragoons should be the ruin of 
it. He thought to bear our infantry down, and 
trample them to pieces in this way : — their unpa- 
ralleled steadiness did much to disappoint him, — 
but it is scarcely to be doubted that the result must 
have been unfortunate, if the guards, the blues, 
and the grays had not been in the field. 

9 



86 

x\Imost every one with whom I conversed, that 
had been engaged in this desperate battle, alluded 
in terms of slrong feeling to the appearance of the 
poor wounded horses. When they are hit (liey 
stop, tremble ia every muscle, and groan deeply, 
while their eyes shew wild astonishment. The 
horse of a very distinguished officer of the horse 
guards, still retains the lively recollection of his 
hurts, and surprises, sustained in this engagement; 
the clamour and bustle of it seem to have j>erpe- 
tuated themselves in his ears : — when any one ap- 
proaches him in the stable, he puts himself on the 
alert for a chaise, and starts as if to get out of the 
way of a sabre cut. Some of the horses, as they 
lay on the ground, having recovered from the first 
agony of their wounds, fell to eating the grass 
about them, — thus surrounding themselves with a 
circle of bare ground, the limited extent of which 
shewed their weakness. Others of these interest- 
ing animals, to whom man so strongly attaches 
himself, were observed qeietly grazing in the mid- 
dle of the field, between the two hostile lines, their 
riders having been shot off their backs, and the 
balls that flew over their heads, and the roaring 
behind, and before. and about them, causing no re- 
spite of the usual instincts of their nature. Strag- 
gling soldiers from both the French and the En- 
glish lines, inspired by that passion for gain, which, 
in so many, rises predominant overall the other feel- 
ings, that would appear more legitimately to belong to 
these sublime scenes, were observed rushing dow^n, 
exposing themselves to imminent danger, to catch 
the valuable creatures. When unsuccessful in the 
attempt to get hold of their bridles, the men would 
stoop down to strip a fallen comrade or enemy of 
his shoes, to search his pockets, or seize any mat- 
ter from his person that cosjid be quickly taken and 
easily <5arried off. This business of turning the 



penny, was carried on with an intentness that seem- 
ed to have no distr ictioa towards any other con» 
sideration, although it was two to one that these 
industrious persons would become the fair objects 
of the industry of others, similarly actuated, before 
they could carry back what they had acquired. 
When a charge of cavalry went past, near to any 
of the stray horses already mentioned, the trained 
animals would set off, form themselves in the rear 
of their mounted companions, and, though without 
riders, gallop strenuously along <vith the rest, not 
stopping or flinching when the fatal shock with the 
enemy took place. 

it is affirmed, as an-anecdote of the battle, that 
a French skirmisher took frequent advantage of the 
body of a wounded British officer, who had fallen 
far in advance dtsriog a charge made by his rfgl- 
ment. The Frenchman loaded his piece crouching 
down behind his fallen foe, and then \Neu% a little 
way in front to discharge it, returning again to pre- 
pare for another lire. During the continuance of 
this process, a conversation went on between the. 
parties. " You English will certainly be beaten by 
the Emperour," — said the titailleiir : " You have no 
chance with us." This was repeated several timesy 
as he returned to his old shelter ; — but at last the 
Frenchman came back with a whimsical smile on 
his countenance, and, instead of stopping as before 
to load his musket, exclaimed hastily : — " Ah., ma 
foi, I believe you English will beat the Emperour: 
bonJGiir,?nGn amir 

It w'as not always however that such good humour 
prevailed. The ferocity of the French troops to 
those of our men whom they wounded, or made pri- 
soners, is universally spoken of in terms of indigna- 
tion : and, as the news of their conduct after the 
battle of the 1 6th got abroad, a corresponding bit- 
terness was engendered on our side on the 18th. It 



88 

seems quite clear that so much of a personal feeling 
of animosity never before miii2;!ed in a national 
quarrel. The French military felt that the cause 
was their own, and that it was their own exclusive- 
ly, having the majority of their countrymen at 
home against it, as well as the whole of the rest of 
Europe. The consciousness of general odium at- 
taching to the object of one's favour, generally in- 
creases the zeal of affection. A horse-guardsman, 
whose desperate wounds, going quite through his 
body, I myself saw — told me that he was left upon 
the ground within the French lines, wounded in a 
charge : he threw his helmet from him, for his ene- 
mies were chiefly exasperated against our heavy 
dragoons, by whom they had suffered so much. Af- 
ter some time he raised his head : two French lan- 
cers saw the movement, and, galloping up to hira, 
dropped both their weapons into his side : they left 
him for dead, — but he still retained life, and shortly 
afterwards a plundering party came down from the 
enemy's position. They stripped the poor fellow, — 
and several of them, who had been in England as 
prisoners of war, took this favourable opportunity of 
reading him a lecture on certain political facts and 
principles, such as the right of the French nation to 
choose its own sovereign, and the pertidy and ra- 
pacity of England, whose inexhaustible gold was 
ever at work producing wars and the various mise- 
ries of dissension. Our bleeding soldier was obliged 
to listen very submissively to these doctrines and 
accusations, — " for you know. Sir," (as his own 
words were,) " they had got the best of it with me 
then." It is not verjr likely that such a singular 
scene could have presented itself within our lines : 
—many of the British would be found there to strip 
off the jackets, the shoes, and the stockings, of a 
wounded captive, — but none, I think, to interrupt 
their work with a lively disquisition, accompanied 



89 

with all the enforcements of gesture and action, Oil 
the moral character and publick rights of nations. 
This couSd only be done by Frenchmen : the dis- 
position from whence it flowed is a feature in their 
system, and shews itself in various indications con- 
nected with their social state, that are accepted by 
some, even among ourselves, as proofs of their po- 
lish, their feeling, their amenity, and generally ex- 
quisite civilization. Hence it is that they form all 
sorts of unnatural connexions; — hence filth, which 
would not be tolerated in the vilest street of Lon- 
don, is to^ be found scattered in the gateways of 
palaces in Parisy more superb than the people of 
London ever think of erecting :— hence I saw my- 
self, in the publick garden of the Thuilleries, a lady 
and her daughter receive a most obsequious bow. 
from a gentleman, a stranger, who came out, adjust- 
ing his dressi, from the door of one of the publick 
lieux in that garden, — while they curtsied, and si- 
dled in to take the place he had just vacated. 

After the poor horse-guardsman was stripped, they 
sent him to the rear, and being too weak to walk, 
he was dragged with his feet trailing along the 
ground for fourtee^i miles ; being occasionally struck 
by those about him, to force him to move his legs. 
He saw several of his fellow prisoners murdered. 
But the French being in full retreat as the night 
came on, and closely pursued by the Prussians, they 
at last permitted the miserable man to sink down 
on the duoghil of an ion, in one of the small towns, 
through which they were at the time passing. Here 
he lay with his blood running about him ; — he was 
awakened from, a kind of doze,. consisting partly of 
sleep and partly of bodily extinction, by one creep- 
ing down by his side :— he turned his head, and 
saw his comrade, the famous Shaw, before mention- 
®d, who could scarcely crawl to the heap, being 
aljssost cut to pieces : " Ah, my dear fellow, Vm 

9-^ 



90 

done for," faintly whispered the latter ; — ^but few 
words passed between them, — and my informant 
told me that he soon dropped asleep : in the morn- 
ing he woke, and poor Shaw was indeed done 
for: he was lying dead, with his face leaning on 
his hand, as if life had been extinguished while he 
w^as in a state of insensibility. This brave man 
carrieil death to every one against whom he rode; 
he is said to have killed a number of the cuirassier* 
sufficient to mnke a shew against the list of slain 
furnished for any of Homer's heroes. His death was 
occasioned rather by the loss of blood from many 
cuts, than the magnitude of any one : he had been 
riding about, fighting, the whole of the day, with 
his body streaming : — and at night he died as 1 have 
described. 

Several women, the wives of soldiers, were kil- 
led, and found Ijang in their plain female dress by 
the sides of their husbands, to whom they had 
brought Avater on hearing that they w ere wounded. 
Among the French dead, on the other hand, were 
found the bodies of several Parisian girls, in male 
attire, who had gone forth with their paramours, 
and actually fought in their company. This, I 
understand, was no uncommon event in the French 
armies. One morning, when passing through the 
Palais Royal, during my second visit to Paris, I 
saw one of these women dressed en militaire^ with 
boots, spurs, and sabre. No Frenchman seemed to 
consider the sight a strange one. A French lady 
of rank told me, that when she was young she was 
beautiful, and then her husband was very proud of 
taking her out dressed as a beau, sometimes on 
horseback to the Bois de Boulogne, and sometimes 
to walk in the gardens of the Thuilleries. She 
often went, she said, to evening parties thus meta- 
mor;*hosed, and evidently did not conceive that an 
idea of the impropriety of such conduct could cross 



91 

my mind. The character of the females of the ivro 
countries, might be safely, and I think fairly left, to 
the evidence given by these poor slaughtered wo- 
men on both sides. An officer told me, that, just as 
he was marching into action on the 16th, — he saw 
a private of the 28th lying asleep on the ground, 
exhausted by his march, and his wife sitting, look- 
ing in his face, as he slept, holding his hand, and 
weeping bitterly. 

The Duke of Wellington, during the whole of 
this desperate fight, expressed to the officers about 
him great confidence in the result, founded on his 
knowledge of the thorough bravery of the British 
troops. In resolving, however, to receive the ene- 
my's battle in his position at Waterloo, he took into 
account the assistance which he required, and was 
assured he should receive from Prince Biucher. 
That assistance was delayed till late in the day, 
and of course the fiery trial was of longer duration 
than had been expected. It may be said with truth, 
that British soldiers alone could have so supported it. 
The day frequently bore a very serious and even 
alarming aspect : our troops were tried, to even be- 
yond the strength of man; a moment's relief for 
refreshment could not be granted, when it was ask- 
ed for the scanty survivors of the almost destroyed 
33d : — "-^ every thing depends on the firm counte- 
nance, and unrelaxed steadiness of the British, — - 
they must not move," — was the reply; — to which a 
few simple words of heartfelt sympathy were added 
by His Grace, and some short compliments well 
earned and honestly meant. But whatever the 
superiour num'^ers of the enemy might have enabled 
them to effect the next day, — there can be but very 
little doubt that we should have maintained our- 
selves on the field during the night of the 18th, — >■ 
and that the battle of that day would have termi= 
nated with the overthrow of every attack made on 



our positions by the French, even if the Prussians^ 
had flot come up. Buonaparte has let us kL*ow 
himself, and several of his officers have confirmed 
the fact,^ — that in his last dreadful charge, made with 
'"^the old imperial guards, now first brought forward, 
fi'esh in bodies, keen in spirits, and in numbers far 
exceeding our wasted ranks, he was influenced by 
a conviction that the matter might be settled with 
the British before the Prussians could take any ma- 
terial share in the engagement ; and the British 
did settle it before their friends came up. In the 
official account which he gave of his defeat, he does 
not in any degree attribute it to the Prussians; — he 
says that the j^^oung guard were charged by squad- 
rons of English, and that their flight S[)read confu- 
sion and terrour among the other French regiments. 
The fact, I believe is, that the last attack made by 
the enemy, about seven in the evening, was the 
most terrible and alarming of any : it burst like aa 
inundation to the top of our position ; it caused our 
artillerymen to withdmw their guns; but on the 
elevation of the ridge our brave remnants of regi- 
ments met it, and stemmed it. It was at this mo- 
ment that the few Scotch left of the ninety-second 
drove back an enormous column :— it was at this 
moment that the heavy dragoons of the French rode 
in small bodies about our infantry, watching for 
opportunities to plunge into their ranks, and occa- 
sionally fighting hand to hand with parties of our 
cavalry ; — it was at (his moment that devotion took 
the place of animation, and each individual of Wel- 
lington's army felt that he had but to fall without 
flinching; — it w^as at this moment that the Duke is 
said to have prayed for the Prussians or for night, — 
and to have exposed himself as much as the most 
forward grenadier of a crack corps, — rallying the 
Brunswickers in person— throwing himself into the 
Qentre of infantry battalions charged by cavalry 5— 



93 

and giving a few encouraging words to the exhaust- 
ed soldiers, as he sat on his horse, exposed to the 
shower of all sorts of bullets, watching for the proper 
instant to give the command for them to rise from 
their place of partial shelter, to stand to their arms as 
the enemy's column approached near. " Up, guards ! 
— and at them again," — was his exclamation on one 
of these occasions. " We must not be beat, my 
friends, — what would they say in England!"" — was 
another of his short and pithy addresses. This mo- 
ment, as I have said, was a trying and even a 
doubtful one : but its fury was encountered and re- 
pelled by the British unaided : — the 4: st charge 
made by the enemy was completely repulsed : — the 
French retired from before us ah me ; and the arrival 
of the Prussians had only an influence on the future 
operations. This influence was certainly very val- 
uable. To be sure, it was hardly likely that the 
light would have lasted long enough to permit Buo- 
naparte to form fresh columns of attack against the 
British, — but he had men enough to do so,— he con= 
tinued to outnumber us greatly, — and we were 
dreadfully exhausted. If he could have arranged 
another great charge before night fell, the conse- 
quences might have been very serious : — but the 
Prussians came up, just as he had been again rough- 
ly dashed back from the immoveable British lineSj 
—just as he had received his last lesson as to the 
matchless quality of the troops by whom his ge- 
nerals had been often beaten, and against whom he 
had to day been for the first time opposed. The 
arrival of our gallant allies under such circumstan- 
ces, destroyed him. It is necessary, however, to 
observe, in consequence of some reports that are 
abroad, — that the Duke never despaired of the bat» 
tie. It is said that a very distinguished British 
general, made some rather melancholy representa^ 
tionp to His Grace towards the end of the daf. 



94 

" You are wrong,*' he replied, — ^and then pulling 
out his watch, added — " You will see that in half 
an hour I shall have beaten them. I know both my 
own troops, and those with whom they are lighting." 

The pell-mell rout of the French has been de- 
scribed in a variety of publications. The Duke 
only rode as far as the small inn of La Belle Alli- 
ance, near which Buonaparte had stationed him* 
self during the greater part of the day : he ap- 
proached it, not by the road, I believe, but from 
the right across the fields, and here he accidentally 
encountered Prince Blucher, — ^then hot in pursuit. 
The meeting of these two Generals in Chief, at 
the conclusion of this arduous engagement, is a cir- 
cumstance that seems to have attracted universal 
attention, and will probably be commemorated in 
all accounts of the battle. They parted almost 
immediately: the Duke returning to Waterloo, to 
attend to the affairs of his shattered, but victo- 
rious army, who had done too much in the battle 
to do any thing in the pursuit, — the gallant old 
Prussian to pursue his impetuous course towards 
TParis, full of spirits, and at last gratified to his 
heart's content. 

Alluding to the Duke's return across the field to 
his head quarters, after this interesting meeting, 
one of the many published accounts of the battle^ 
rather forcibly describes, what I have heard testi- 
fied by several as a fact: viz. His Grace's emo- 
tion on seeing himself surrounded by so many 
slain, and so few living, of those gallant friends, 
who had partaken with him of all the cares and 
triumphs of his long military career. It had now 
terminated in the utmost of dignity and glory that 
the unrestrained imagination of ambition coiild 
ever have presented as attainable, — ^ut campara» 
tively few were left to enjoy with him this sublime 
result, of those who were best qualified and eati- 



95 

tied to enjoy it. What he bad gained, and what 
he bad escaped, must at this momeiu nave added 
but to the melancholy of his feelings, by heigh (en- 
ing the contrast presented by the unhappy fate of 
so m:iny noble and aspiring soldiers, now lying 
mangled and lifeless un^ler his horses' feet, — many 
of them youths, the hopes of distinguished f milies, 
some of them his most intimate companions in 
private, and all of them his trusty companions, 
and the instruments of his renown in the tiekl. 

The passage in question is as follows, — for it is 
worth quoting — 

" They parted ;— Blucher proceeded on his way. 
Lord Wellington returned to Waterloo. As he 
crossed again this fatal scene, on which -(he silence 
of death had now succeeded to the storm of battle, 
the moon, breaking from dark clouds, shed an un- 
certain light upon this wide field of carnage, cov- 
ered with mangled thousands of that gallant army, 
whose heroick valour had won for him the bright- 
est wreath of victory, and left to future times an 
imiterishable monument of their country's fame. 
He saw himself surrounded by the bloody corpses 
of his veteran soldiers, who had followed him 
through distant lands — of his friends and associates 
in arms— his companions through many an event- 
ful year of danger and of glory. In that awfui 
pause which follows the mortal conflict of maa 
with man, emotions unknown or stifled in the heat 
of battle forced their w^ay, — the feelings of the 
man triumphed over those of the general, and, in 
the very hour of victory. Lord Wellington burst 
into tears."* The Duke's simple touch of the pa- 
thetick in the conclusion of his letter to the Earl of 
Aberdeen, on the death of his Lordship's brofher, 
the brave Sir Alexander Gordon, beautifully coin- 

■* The Battle of Waterloo^ published by Booth, pp. xsvi— xxvii. 



96 

sides with this statement: — " The glory resulting 
from such actions, so dearly bought, is no consola- 
tion to me, and I cannot imagine that it is any to 
you : but I trust the result hds been so decisive, 
that little doubt remains of our exertions being re- 
warded by the attainsnent of our tirst object ; — 
then it is that the glory of the actions in which 
our friends have fallen, may be some consolation to 
me." — "My heart," he s^iid in another Ittrer, "is 
broken by the terrible loss I have sustained of my 
old friends and companions, and my poor soldiers! 
and I shall not be satisfied with this battle, how- 
ever glorious, if it does not put an end to Buona- 
parte." In a letter to his mother. Lady Morning- 
ton, the Duke said of Buonaparte, — " that he did 
his duty — that he fought the battle with infinite 
skill, perseverance, and bravery;" — " and this," he 
adds, with a modesty that ought only to render 
him dearer to his country, " I do not state from any 
motive of claiming merit to myself, — for the victo- 
ry is to be ascribed to the superiour physical force, 
and constancy of British soldiers." — To his bro- 
ther he wrote, — " never had I fought so hard fop 
victory, — and never, from the gallantry of the ene- 
my, had I been so near being beaten." 

When the Duke entered Brussels on the follow- 
ing morning, he was met, at the gates, >^y a tumul- 
tuous crowd of the congratulating inhabitants. 
** Yes Messieurs," he said to them, in his quiet 
tone, as he rode through them, "We have indeed 
gained a great victory. You will see the immense 
train of captured cannon shortly arrive." The 
most fearful confusion had been prevailing in this 
city : — a ^>arty within i'.s walls certainly favoured 
the French causp, and spread ac^:ounts of Buona- 
parte's success, which were supported by the re- 
treat of the British and Prussian armies on the 1 7th. 
During the 18th, the cannon was all day roaring 



97 

in the ears of the people of this agitated metro- 
polis, and runaways from the field spread the most 
disastrous reports to excuse their own appearance. 
The superiour discipline of the Dukeof Wellington's 
troops was now rendered very apparent ; there were 
scarcely any straggling British ; hut against bodies 
of fugitive Prussians, who clamoured for admit- 
tance into Brussels, it was necessary to oppose 
strong guards at each of the gates, for it was pretty 
well guessed that their object was to plunder the 
city, crying out in the mean while that the French 
were coming. Many of' these fellows came with 
their arms and legs bound up as if they were wound- 
ed, — though nothing was the matter with them, — 
but they thought by this means to get access to 
where they might steal. 

The fearful tidings thus spread, scattered dismay 
among the British visitors, the wounded of the 16th, 
and the females belonging to the army, that were in 
Brussels. The most lively pictures have been 
given of the hasty tiights, the crowded roads, the 
lost and scattered property v/hich were the conse- 
quences of this alarm. Those who raised all the 
commotion thus found opportunities of turning it to 
account : — many of our officers lost the whole of 
their baggage ; their servants, who were terrified 
into deserting their charge, leaving it to fall a prey 
to the marauders. 

The road betwixt the field of battle and Brussels, 
presented a scene that scarcely admits of descrip- 
tion, — and the streets of that city gradually assjjm- 
ed the same horrible character. The baggage 
train, having been ordered to the rear, as a mea- 
sure of precaution, the road became occupied with 
three lines of waggons, full of stores and wounded 
men,^ — intermingled with horses, ammuuition-ceses, 
&c. &c. In many parts the whole got compiicaied 
Bnd wedged : poor wounded soldiers were h ing 

10 



bleeding to death at every hundred yards, — many 
were seen jammed between the carriages, implor- 
ing assistance to get to Brussels. Hats, caps, jack- 
ets, bayonets, scabbards, and broken muskets, 
strewed the whole line of road. Here a waggon 
was broken down, there a horse had fallen. The 
confusion was dreadful ! An officer, who was 
wounded, told me, that the horrours of his walk to 
Brussels were almost too much for recollection* 
The rain fell in torrents ; the roads were deep ; 
he was in severe agony with his hurt ; the motion 
of a carriage he could not bear ; his strength 
scarcely sufficed for him to drag himself along. 
He was often forced out of the road, to avoid being 
Crushed to death, and compelled to crawi along, 
through the deep wet grass and entangling 
briafs of the fori&st of Soignies. Once, a Brunswick 
sokiicr ran against his wounded arm with violence, 
giving him great pain : — he threw off the man, 
who hastily lifted a sabre to cut him down ; — seeing 
his wound, however, the fellow shewed great signs 
of commiseration and passed on. 

Brussels gradually filled with wounded : all her 
doors were thrown open, and not more so than her 
hearts. Every on« was emplo3'ed in some titling 
office of compassionate relief. It was a beautiful 
instance of the close alliance that exists between 
the most appalling hicidents and coarsest passions^ 
a Oil the refreshing cordialities and endearing ten- 
dernesses of human nature. Here was found what 
is mosi .-smiabie, and even enchanting, springing 
from almost unexampled rage, slaughter, and mise- 
ry. Into whatever house you went, j^ou found 
only the enthusiasm of doing good : the females 
were all emploj^ed in making lint, who were not 
actually engaged in dressing wounds : the soldiers 
who could not at first be tnken into the houses, 
were laid aloHg on straw in the streets, and the la- 
dies of Brussels were seen, during the whole night 



99 

and morning, stooping over these poor sufferers, 
supplying them wilh refreshments, and, in the ab- 
sence of medical assistance, doing their best to re- 
lieve their agony. The priests went round collect- 
ing for the hospital ; the wealthy seat out carts la- 
den with ^iipj<Ues for the unhappy wretches, who, 
for several days and nights, remained on the field 
of battle, in the most awful state, — it being a la- 
bour almost inconceivable to bring in the thousands 
that fell them. The appearance of the field, just 
after the engagement, has been described, but the 
scene is almost too dreadful for contemplation. At 
Quatre Bras, men who had sunk through weakness 
in the midst of the corn-fields, came crawling out 
five or six days after the battle, emficiated, and in 
a state of wiidness, nay of actual derangemem, in 
consequence of pain, hunger, and cohi. Those 
who visited the plain of Waterloo, during the tirst 
few days after the battle, sav/ exhibitions to which 
ihe mere heaps of the bodies of the slaughtered 
were pleasant sights. In some cases, those who 
had visited the wounded had supplied Ihem with 
spirits, or other strong Huids ; and what with pain, 
intoxication, and the recollections of ihe battle, 
these poor creatures displayed an extravagance in 
fheir wretchedness, which had a tremendous efiect. 
The industry, too, of the people who were assidu- 
ously employetl in searching for any thing that 
could be turned to profit out of this mass of car- 
nage, was not the least disgusting feature of the 
whole. It seemed most strange and degrading, 
that the sordid passions should find a scope where 
there were so many claims on the finer sensibilities. 
The guards that were posted on different spots of 
the field, to preserve the muskets, regimentals, &;c- 
that were still serviceable, — rendered a walk over it 
at this time, not the safest of expeditions, — for a 
random shot, here and there, was not thought very 
seriously of, after so much of shooting had been 



lee 

going on ; and as to the life of one or two fellow 
creatures, what importance could be attached to 
sach a consideration, after the dangers that had 
been encountered, and Ihe slaughter that had been 
seen ? 

A work including any notice of these interesting 
matters, should also contain a formal acknowledg- 
ment of the gratitude which all classes in this 
c<)untry owe lo the good people of Brussels. It 
lias been justly said in my hearing, by some of 
those who suffered in these engagements, " What 
would have become of us, if Brussels had not been 
near?" From the many thousands who appealed 
hy their distresses to the humanity of the inhabit- 
ants, scarcely one complaint was heard of having 
appealed in vain, — and in the vast majority of in- 
stances, the liberality and kindness shewn to ouf 
unfortunate defenders, friends, and relations, went 
far beyond their bare necessities, and were extend- 
ed into a zeal and solicitude, that could not in 
fairness have been asked for, nor even hoped fop 
by those most interested in the gr>Ilant victims. I 
heard of the case of a young lady of one of the first 
iamilles in Brussels, who persisted, even against 
advice, in dressing the wound of a veteran sergeant- 
major, after it had assumed the appearances of mor- 
tiTication, and was m a state requiring the utmost 
precaution for the safety of its dresser, as well as 
rendering it extremely offensive to the senses. A 
slight puncture in her finger admitted some of the 
poisonous matter, and her life very nearly paid the 
forfeit of her humanity. God forbid that I should 
have dwelt so long on the angry and dismal lea- 
tures of these conflicts, and pass unnoticed those 
delightful examples, that |)rove how the better 
parts of human nature derive a noble exaltation 
and conspicuous display, from circumstances that, 
ai first, seem to indicate its degradation, and to il- 
lHstrat« tlie eoarseness of its dispositions. 



101 



CHAPTER VIL 

It was on a beautiful moroiog, ibe first that had 
Ijeen known in Brussels for two or three moiitfcs, 
that I set off from that city to walk over the field 
<tf Waterloo. I had previoussj met hosts of my 
^countrymen returning from a similar visit, and 
^nultitudes w^ere on the road following mj^footsltps. 
It may be said that the oprmrtunity was faVOura!»?e 
ibr the gratitication of this sort of curiosuy, hut it 
may also be said that never had a publick interest 
equalled in intensity and diffusion that which was 
excited in Britain by the news of this great battle. 
-We had often felt that our military exploits, though 
highly glorious, as shewing the dauntless courage 
of our troops, had, by some fatality, or misconduct, 
been defrauded of their most brilliant fruits : our 
arms had, in most eases, before the war in Spain, 
been employed in distant expeditions, in which 
•success was but liitle fe!t, because imperfectly un- 
derstood ; and even our triumphs in Sprain were 
collateral rather than principal. Although, proba- 
bly, the Spanish struggle, the strength aud soul oC 
which la}^ in this country, has been the parent of 
all the glorious events we have lately witnessed, — = 
yet it was waged as it were in a corner,-— it was 
not carried on upon the chief stage, — -and, above 
all, a British commander had not jei been fairly 
pitted against him, whose reputation, as a master ia 
the art of war, was regarded with a kind of super- 
stitious feeling of admiration, even by those whc> 
detested the man and spurned his power. 

Every thing that had been wanting hereto- 
fore, was, at Waterloo supplied. The Brilis-li 
ti'oops formed apart of what w^as the a-dvaoced 
10* 



102 

guard of Allied Europe : — they occupied the most 
important and prominent position : — their com- 
mander had kindled universal attention and expec- 
tation : — his evidently approaching encounter with 
his imperial rival was waited for, as if it would 
furnish more than a mere trial of skill between two 
generals, — as if it would bring to a test the high 
pretensions of England in every respect, and at 
once settle whether she should have that first-rate 
place allotted her in estimation which she claimed, 
— or be notoriously proved secondary to France, 
her inveterate and boasting enemy. Many looked 
on to witness this great trial, with emotions that 
would in some measure be gratified by our discom- 
fiture, being connected with that vague feeling of 
ill-will that superiority often engenders. But the 
result was complete fulfilment on the part of Eng- 
land ; and, as the exploit was performed in the 
eyes of all, so its consequences were too positive 
and vast to admit of any doubt or depreciation of 
its unprecedented value. The people of the con- 
tinent had become acquainted with British troops 
during the few months they remained in quarters: 
they found them high-s})irited but disciplined, — 
Gonfideot in their style of thinking, but not arro- 
gantly assuming in their manner of behaviour. 
The day of battle came, and they then found these 
troops invincible in their courage, though in their 
numbers weak : they saw the terrifick spectre of 
Buonaparte's power, which seemed again to over- 
shadow and throw into gloom the hopes and pro- 
spects of mankind, break into thin air at the talis- 
manick touch of English steel. The thing was 
done in an instant, — and thoroughly done. France 
was at once laid defenceless and bare before the 
tenth part of her enemies were up : five days after 
the battle, Buonaparte was no longer an Emperour 
even in name — (his second act of abdication is 



103 

dated the 23d June;) fifteen days after the bat-^ 
He, Paris was in possession of the English and 
Prussians,— the other members of the alliance 
having only to hasten along the road, that had 
been opened to them, to enjoy what had been thus 
so completely effected. Within a month, our most 
inveterate foe had surrenderedhimself into the hands 
of England, as, in his own words, " the greatest 
and most constant of his enemies !*' 

It is most probable that as fine military qualities 
had been equally shewn on other, but more ob- 
scure occasions. Many a hard fought battle in 
Spain and Portugal, may, in real import, prove as 
much to the credit of both general and troops as 
that of Waterloo; but there happened a concur- 
rence of circumstances to give eclat to the latter. 
At the same time it is certain, that, in regard to 
actual performance, our army had never displayed 
a more brilliant combination of the noblest charac- 
teristicks of good soldiers, as these were put to the 
test by the fatigues of a long and hasty march, — 
by a call to maintain a desperate resistance, for the 
sake of time, against an enemy pouring forward in 
enormous numbers, — by a necessary retreat,— and, 
finally, in a great battle,jwrhere no other sort of cour- 
age could have been of use, but that highest species, 
which is manifested in coolly receiving attacks, — 
in every man's standing by his ground, entirely 
and equally disregarding all temptations, either to 
advance or fall back. On no former occasion had 
the magnitude of the achievement been so authen- 
tically testified by the magnitude of the loss : — 
never had the families of Britain felt to such an 
extent the private affliction which follows weeping 
in the train of publick glory. Scarcely one of our 
distinguished houses can be mentioned, that has 
not had a chasm made in it by the destruction of 
these terrible days ; nor did the blows fall less nu- 



msvou^ w less Jieavy within the abodes of hum^ 
Mer life. On many a heart the peal of victory 
Etruck as a dismal toll ;-^scarcely an individual 
iover the whole nation could speak of these great 
^eeds without ^enumerating a more or less distant 
connexion who had helped to purchase the triumph 
with his Mood. Thus the feelings of sympathy 
and grief added mightily to the flood of national 
interest, which poured irre&istibly towards the 
lield of Waterloo, and which has scarcely as yet 
«ufifered any diminution. It is grateful to thir^ 
Ihat the political character of these military events 
Is so naagnificently important, that the -voice of 
history is likely to sustain to the full our present 
€stimate of them, — -and that the battle in question 
Kill always be described, as it is now felt,-^namely, 
as the brightest gem in the crown of this country's 
fame, full as it is of these jewels,— as a fit compa- 
nion to the finest achievements either of ancient or 
modern times, that have been picked out to stand 
l>rominent illustrations to the honour of humaa 
lenterprize, and to give the eifect of sublimity to 
the annals of human afiairs. 

Such are the circumstances, connected with 
these victories, that caused them to have so pow- 
j&rfttl an eSect on the minds and hearts ^f the peo- 
ple of England. So strong a national impulse of 
mingled gratitude and admiration was probably 
never before felt ; and certainly one would not 
covet that frame of instinct and feeling, the efiect& 
of which, if at all known hereafter, will be known 
as exceptions to the general acknowledgment of 
that which posterity will undoubtedly deem an in- 
valuable legacy of national fame. Earnest retro- 
spects to the past for something to blame, and spe^- 
culative forecastings to the future for something to 
alarm, if they be the honest, are certainly not the 
fceaVthy workings of Engliah spirits, when England 



103 

has just given to the world an extraordinary proof 
of her heroism and might, in the final overthrow of 
a perfidious and violent man, who had proclaimed 
to the astonished and subdued kingdoms of the 
continent, from the great height formed by their 
ruin, that our ancient island was doomed to come 
in the last but most magnificent appendage to the 
train of his barbarous triumphs. Was there nothing 
in the return of the poisoned chalice to the lips 
of him who had j)repared it for our draught, to re- 
spite for a moment the ingenuity of censure, and 
to indispose to the search for abatements of exul- 
tation — haply to be found in a wide view of the 
perplexities and imperfections of the circumstances 
of publick condition ? There are occasions which 
put to the test the soundness of particular opinions, 
and the general value of the judgment, by proving 
the worth of the whole nature of the man; — which, 
by trying him as a creature, shew his fitness to be 
a reasoner. The fruits that more immediately 
come from the brain, must derive their flavour and 
nourishing qualities from correct affections in the 
heart; — and it may be denied that they possess 
these affections, who were not moved from the 
drudgery of their small criticism, when their 
country was celebrating in its innermost soul, 
and with all its external signs, a grand holi- 
day,— sacred in its raptures, Avhether of a grief 
possessing many of the consolations of joy, — or of 
a joy stretching its raptures into the sublimities of 
melancholy. "If I forget thee. Oh Jerusalem, 
may m}'' right hand forget its cunning I" The love 
of our country, leading to glory in her honour, and 
to feel shame in her disgrace, is one of those de- 
lightful and sacred instincts, which form both the 
foundation and elevation of humnn nature;— which 
are placed in it as evidently emanating: from some- 
thing superiour to itself, and which therefore defy 



U6 

the analysis to which the reasoning powers in their 
busy processes would subjeet them. They are some- 
thi'ig above our powers ; they are our guides :— r 
they are given to us<^with proofs of their infallibility 
in their incomprehensibility : — they are given to 
us, that we may not, in the most essential things, be 
the sport of temporary theories, and fashions, — of 
accidental situations, and unequal opportunities* 
The pagan and the Christian, — the slave and the 
freerman,- — he who lived thousands of years ago, 
and he who may live thousands of years hence,— 
are bound in a pleasant unity by the instinctive 
affections that are common to all our kind,— where- 
as, without these, they would be as creatures of 
different planets, having no points of contact, no 
temleneies even to approximation, no intelligible 
commuoicatioriS. Thus would our sympathies be 
wretchedly limited, our imaginations restrained, 
our finest sources of mental pleasure shut up, — and 
^ven our reasoning faculties weakened by a dimi- 
nution of the means of their exercise. 

I have said this much, because there is a modern 
school of intellectuaiists and improvers, who found 
their claims to be considered impartial and shrewd, 
on a perpetual coldness to what their country does 
that is great and good, coupled with a lively warmth 
in exposing all the errours into which she is betray- 
ed. The first quality, visible in their labours, ren- 
ders their impartiality, so far as the latter is con- 
cerned, very suspicious, — and it would be more to 
the credit of their shrewdness, if they were to note 
what additional strength their cause might derive 
from addressing it to that large class of motives 
and prepossessions which exist for good purposes, — 
and, at all events, 7vill exist, m-iugre their endea- 
vours to degrade (heili into hurtful prejudices. To 
run counter to the most innate po|)ular feelings, 
when calling for the exercise of popular will, is not 



the moat sagacious proceeding. The raafs of the 
peo|)le will never be brought to th'ok kindly of 
the theory of parliamentary reform, while they are 
accustomed to see its recommendation accompanied 
in the same page with sneers against the achieve* 
ments of the Duke of Wellington. If the value Of 
the former can only be made apparent by conceal^ 
ing the splendour of the latter, our multitudes will 
continue to shut theit eyes to it, unless some unhap- 
py change should take place m the social and po- 
litical character of the country, which would dis- 
pose it to seek reformation in regardlessness of 
integrity, and to improve in the spirit of destfua- 
tion. The fact is, that, after all our reasonings an^ 
demonstrations, there is mere of certainly, and 
therefore more of wisdom, in patriotick attach* 
ments than in patriotick plans,—- and therefore^ 
when the latter are irreconcileable \vith the former 
they come to us with a confession that they are 
hollow. While the doctrines and assertions of old 
times, — to which faith was pledged, for which 
blood was shed, and posterity invoked,^ — ^^now pre- 
sent to us, OH looking back upon them, biit a mass 
of absurdities and uncertainties, displaying the 
weakness of those who fancied themselves sd 
strong,— ;?w6ZiVA: affections atford us a chano-eless 
test by which to try the nobility of the qualities 
of character, and it is according to the mani- 
festation of these that reputation has been at^ 
judged. We think with indifference now of 
the squabbling in Athens whether Demosthenes 
had passed his accounts projierly when the edict 
for crowning him was given in his favour, — ^^hut 
Ms orations against Philip are regarded with ad- 
miration, as speaking the true Athenian. Vf e no 
longer criticise the expenditure of Pericles, but 
honour his high-minded desire to render his city 
magnificent in the eye of the world. We have 



108 

jao opinion for the merits of the sides taken by- 
its inhabitants in these party questions, — but would 
now turn with strong distaste from the effusions of 
a Grecian writer of that day, directed to under- 
value the result of Salamis, — or to prove that Da- 
rius, the son of Hystaspes, who was defeated at 
Marathon, was a greater man than Miltiades, who 
saved the national independence of Greece by de- 
feating its inveterate Persian foe. 

It must be allowed, that, in estimating the com- 
parative talents of the Duke of Wellington and Buo- 
naparte, the mere result of the battle which finish- 
ed Ihe career of the latter, if considered indepen- 
dently of other circumstances, would prove little 
or nothing. There was very little scope for ma- 
ncEuvring in that engagement : the ground was 
wonderfully limited considering the number of the 
combatants; — ^there was no extensive chain of ope- 
rations, including distant corps, and complicated 
movements. The French army was thrown upon 
the British and Prussians, wilhoot reserve, or refe- 
rence to combination ; and the British and Prus- 
sians had to keep their ground as entirely for them- 
selves, as if Europe had supplied no other troops 
for the v/ar. According to this simple way of look- 
ing at the facts, it appears, that, the hostile forces 
being about equal in strength and equipment, — 
but the French having the advantage in unity of 
command, and probably in veteran soldiers, — the 
latter were nevertheless beaten. Their defeat, too, 
followed upon their own commencement of the war, 
according to their own plan, and at their own select- 
ed time. It will scarcely be denied, that the means, 
of which Buonaparte possessed himself on his second 
return to France, were sufficient to enable him to 
raise an army that ought to have been competent to 
figh! the BrUisb and Prusshns; and, in point of 
fact, such an army was raised, — and was deemed 



109 

by its leaders, and by every individual belonging 
to it, fully equal to defeating the troops of the alli- 
ance collected on Brussels. It was beaten, however, 
by these troops, — and, as no accident happened, as 
the French were well officered,* well appointed, 
and -zealous in their cause even to fury,- — the con- 
elusion must be one of two, — either that their com- 
mander is a very inferiour general to those against 
whom he was then opposed, — or that his soldiers 
were still more deficient in firmness, or other es- 
sential military qualifications. — ^^The battle itself 
chiefly proved the existence of a deficiency in the 
latter quarter : — the moment not having yet come 
for the Duke of Wellington to advance into France, 
and act on a combined system of attack, — and the 
importance of Brussels not permitting him to take 
any wide range, in conjunction with Prince Blucher, 
to discomfit the enemy by tacticks, — he had only 
to put his men on their ground and leave them to 
maintain it, — he himself setting them a brifliant 
example of presence of mind, courage, and con- 
fidence. This he did, in a style that was never 
surpassed, and which equals the finest of those in- 
stances of coolness and heroism, that have been 
shewn by great commanders, and which have im- 
mortalized their names, and given to history its 
chief interest. His life was exposed, both on the 

* There was a cry, indeed, raised by the defeated French, that 
they were betrayed. The vanity of a Frenchman will always provide 
him with a consolation, even in the most shameful and abject cir- 
cumstances, and at any expense of truth and probability. The 
Parisians turned this excuse, as they do every thing, into ridicule, 
— and exhibited a caricature, in which one of the imperial jiuard, 
having fallen into a ditch in his flight, roars out, " Oh, I am be- 
trayed .'" It was Ney that was said to have betrayed the army, 
— and the military then attached all the horrid French execrations 
to his name : — a short time after this, Ney was to be shot as a 
traitor, and then the same party eulogised him as a model of 
every noble soldierly quality ! 

11 



110 

16th and ISth, like that of his meaHest soldier,*— 
his &Lnif was almost entirely destroyed,— and, on 
the last day, it cannot be doubted, that he entered 
the field with as thorough a spirit of devotion as 
ever animated a Grecian or Roman warriour, — or 
the most romantick knight when engaged in the 
most hazardous enterprise. In this respect his 
conduct contrasts itself against Buonaparte's, in a 
manner which, without entering on the ajgument 
about sober views of duty in common cases, is^ at 
all events, not uujjieasant to English feelings. 
There are isnportant occasions, when even duty 
Uiiites with impulse to dictate to a nobly-constitut- 
ed mind, to incur imminent hazards, as pledgee 
of proper motives; and if the Duke of Wellington 
felt himself to stand in this predicament at Water- 
loo, how much more natural and proper was it^ 
that Buonaparte should consider himself as placed 
in such a situation. He clearly had no proper 
resource in case of defeat but death — that is to 
say, according to the rules of these violent but 
gallant adventures. — The circumstance of his hav- 
ing dragged a nation into a desperate hazard, with- 
out regard but to his own ambition, should, at least, 
have led him to shake off caution as it concerned 
his own safety, when he found that he had lost 
the stake for which he had thrown so fearful a 
venture. Certainly, of the two, the Duke of Wel- 
lington had not the most cause to expose himself: 
-—it is understood, however, that " the Emperour" 
was never within the fire of- musketry, and 
that his leading onward consisted of the words " en 
avanty^ given to others while he remained behind. 

* On the 1 6th a French officer of dragoons, having penetrated 
very far in a charge, was riding close to the Duke, who, turning to 
sorae soldiers that were near him, said, — "what ! will you allow 
hiiii to escBpe !" The Frenchman was taken prisoner within a few 
yards of his Grace. I had this anecdote from aji eye witness. 



Ill 



It really astounds one to think of his again setting 
his face towards Paris, after an overthrow so com- 
plete and disgraceful, thus rapidly following prom- 
ises and vauntings so unqualified and arrogant. 

But the great strength of the victorious cause on 
this occasion, lay in the sterling native excellence 
of the British troops. Yet some who very eagerly 
fly to this acknowledgment to lessen the merits of 
their general, should bethink them, first, that the 
Duke of Wellington anticipated every body else in 
stating what an advantage he had in this resnect,^ — 
and, secondly, that the fine qualities of heart, which 
they now find to be so necessarily invincible, and 
so naturally the results of independent British ha- 
bits, — were not sufficient to bespeak from them tlie 
slightest confidence in what our army would accom- 
plish, — before it left them but this w^ay of defaming 
the commander by praising his^ men. The British 
army and the Duke of Wellington are too closely 
connected with each other to permit this trick to be 
successful : they are to all intents and purposes 
identified : — it is not possible to ascertain, if it were 
grateful to inquire, how the division of merit should 
be struck : — all that can be known is, that, under 
the Duke, our army has, from being thought very 
meanly of in Europe, raised the military reputation 
of this country to a level with its naval fame, — and 
that, by the help of our army, the Duke has reached 
the pinnacle of military honours, saved two king- 
doms from a fate which his censurers described as 
not to be averted, and gained a victory which leaves 
him no rival to contend with, and England no ene- 
my to fear. 

Nothing certainly could be more apparent than 
the superiority of the troops of the three united 
kingdoms in these engagements. It is quite clear, 
I presume, that our countrymen evinced on that oc- 
easioB a quality which is at present peculiar to 



112 

themselves. The soldiers of other nations are 
brave : in the superficial appearances of enthusiasm, 
and the intelligence of individuals, the British ar- 
my is surpassed by others ; but it alone has that 
quality which may be termed the nobility of animal 
nature ; which is called blood, and game, in the in- 
feriour creatures, and forms a natural and important 
distinction in the same species. This quality de- 
rives the ability to vanquish from an actual inability 
to yield, and leaves to those who guide the conflict, 
no need to estimate the extent of courage to encoun- 
ter, but simply to calculate the amount of physical 
strength to sustain. — It is this which gives to the 
British troops their universally-acknowledged su- 
periority at the awful and decisive moment of the 
charge, — when the dreadful and tinal test is made, 
—when all the resources of dexterity and the en- 
couragemeuts of artificial feeling are as nothing, 
and the sterling worth of each individual combatant 
is assayed, by his being put to the direct proof with 
his particular opponent. This superiority has been 
iiicontestably our's through the whole course of the 
late campaigns, and it had its final triumph in its 
finest display at Waterloo. The history of our 
navy is the history of what this quality can achieve ; 
and that it is properly national may be inferred 
from the coincidence of all our narratives of the 
past as well as the present. The British officers at 
Brussels, with whom I conversed, paid their ene- 
mies many compliments as to their steadiness and 
good countenance when standing fire, but unanimous- 
ly declared that they never yet saw an instance of 
their meeting the shock of our men's bayonets. My 
Uncle Toby, who was the modestest as well as the 
bravest of beings, declares the same, and he is sup- 
ported by the excellent evidence of Trim. Speak- 
ing of the French, the former says, " If they hive 
the advantage of a wood, or you give them a raOi» 



113 

mentis time to entrench themselves, they are a na- 
tion which will pop and pop for ever at you. There 
is no way but to march coolly up to them, receive 
their fire, and fall in upon them, pell-mell : — Ding- 
dong, added Trim : — Horse and foot, said my Uncle 
Toby : — Helter-skelter, said Trim : — Right and 
left, cried my Uncle Toby : — Blood-an'-ounds ! 
shouted the Corporal. The battle raged : Yorick 
drew his chair a little to one side for safety." 
Tristram Shandy. 

Yet, although the battle of Waterloo, itself, may 
not, for the reasons already stated, supply a deci- 
sive test of the talents of the rival commanders, it 
forms a material point in the general chain of evi- 
dence, — and the sum of this evidence is, that Buo- 
naparte's success is chiefly to be traced to what he dis- 
regarded, and Wellington's to what he considered. 
It only required that the two systems should come 
in contact, that the former might be shivered to 
pieces by the latter. Buonaparte's genius, as a 
ruler and general, if genius it must be called, was of 
a very summary and simple kind : it consisted in 
saying " let this be done,'''' no matter at what expense, 
no matter by what violation. This certainly gave 
him some important advantages over those who 
trouble themselves to find how a thing can be effect- 
ed with the least expense and the least violation : 
but, — as has been observed in a former part of this 
work, when his character was under consideration, 
— a plan of this sort includes great reverses even 
more surely than great successes, and is sure to fail 
when its enemies at length unite energy with their 
caution, and activity with their reserves. From the 
circumstances of Europe whea Buonaparte first 
came forward on the scene, it happened that it wrs 
long before he was so encountered, — but his glory, 
even when most splendid, was of a nature very 
coarse and unpleasant. Formerly, it used to be 

11-* 



114 

military science, acting with certain proportioned 
numbers, under certain rules of forbearance ; — for- 
bearance as to the inhardtanls and the troops, and 
science as to the acknowledged rules of war, Buo- 
naparte rushed in, and carried all before him, not 
by refining farther on the methods in existence, 
but by stripping the military practice of eve- 
ry thing ornamental, generous, and humane. His 
gains were made at an expense of his. soldiers' 
lives which no general would before have contem- 
plated. To carry on this violent system of tacticks, 
armies were levied, without mercy either for the 
countries furnishing the men, or those who were to 
provide them with supplies ; — bivouacking super- 
seded encampments,— -winter campaigns were sub- 
stituted for winter quarters, — masses were violently 
thrown forward where lines were before neatly de- 
ployed. What was all this but a retrograde step 
towards the clumsiness of barbarism ? It was drop- 
ping the small sword to take up the club : — but, in 
its first appearances, it was deceiving, and the im- 
position assisted its own effect. " It must be done''* 
was thought a god-like fiat, — whereas it was half 
suggested by a theatrical affectation, and half by 
savage insensibility. Rules of business were ill- 
observed, rules of society were disregarded, and 
rules of honour despised, — thus was constituted the 
greatness of Buonaparte. The moral and politi- 
cal system, the foundations of which he thus at- 
tempted to lay, was the most torpid and nefarious 
in its character and tendency that ever sprung 
from the evil desires of a " bold bad man." It had 
the coldness of philosophy without its wisdom, the 
fierceness of war without its heart and glow, the 
unsparing hand of reform without the rectitude of 
its intentions. Could it have been imposed on the 
world, the world would not have been worth living 
in ; for we should have had names without thingSj 



115 

aud promises without even the momentary mean- 
ing to perform. But a system of this sort, which 
appeals to no human prejudice, and is also hostile 
to every rational and just principle, cannot last ; 
and the victories finally gained over the extraordi- 
nary individual in question, belong to the same 
class of natural events with that ultimate ascen- 
dancy, which, in private life, regular men usually 
acquire over empirical speculators, who may at 
first have dazzled the imaginations of their neigh- 
bours by the brilliancy of their establishments, and 
the unlimited extent of their dealings. Buona- 
parte's mode of transacting business with his minis- 
ter of finance, explains the man and his means 
altogether. He always drew up the budget him- 
self, and would put down arbitrary sums under the 
various heads of supply. The produce of one tax 
he would estimate at (let us say,) ttree millions of 
francs : the minister well knew that it must fall 
short of this sum by at least a million, — but it was 
not his business to say any thing. The Em})erour 
had so rated it, and " it must he done,^^ was the 
imperial reply to all objections. To do him jus- 
tice, however, when he said it must be done, he 
left his servants to do it as they best could. Ele 
bound them to none of the prescribed forms, or le- 
gal limitations. He quarrelled with no irregularity 
in the process, if the result was complete ; nay, he 
did not much care what amount of future incon- 
venience and embarrassment was laid up for his 
administration, provided the present hour was got 
over with eclat, and the want of the moment sup» 
plied. In this wild, preposterous, ruffian-like way, 
did this great genius conduct his affairs : — being 
without scruples, reserves, or foresights, he had 
much to expend in his ^rst enterprises, but he be- 
came proportipnably destitute at last, — and even 
his most obstinate admirers must admit, that the 



116 

utmost of his success was not so remarkable as the 
extreme of his overthrow. This admission, if they 
consider it well, will be found to include all that 
has been said in these few last pages. 

The total want of personal honour amongst the 
French military of the present day, is universally 
remarked by all who have had any thing to do 
with them as friends or enemies. This stripping 
off of the soldier's moral lace and feather, was, in 
a great measure, the work of Buonaparte. A nice 
individual sense, cherished by his instruments, 
would have weakened his simple powers, diverted 
part of his means, and altogether have diluted his 
system. It would, for instance, have stood sadly 
in his way in Spain. Unfortunate as he found that 
war turn out, it would have been more rapidly so 
if his officers had kept themselves within tiiose rules 
which their great opponent observed. In the col- 
lection of the Duke of Wellington's orders to his 
army, many pages will be found devoted to the se- 
verity of rebuke and the strictness of regulation, 
having but one purpose, — namely, that of protect- 
ing the unfortunate inhabitants of the country which 
was the seat of the war. From the history of the 
French revolutionary campaigns, — the glories of 
which, according to the French nation's fancy, will 
be so brilliant in the eyes of posterity,— what in- 
stances of an equally honourable care can be addu- 
ced ? I believe I may say, not one ; while it is 
stained with an undeviating and systematick prac- 
tice of pillage and cruelty, that can only be paral- 
leled in the accounts of modern wars, by adducing 
some few generally-reprobated instances of extra- 
ordinary outrage. The Duke of Wellington's ta- 
lents as a general are not fairly estimated, unless ac- 
count be taken of what he spared as well as of what 
he subdued, — and of the fame which he secured to 
his country, by coupling unexampled justice, for- 



iir 

bearance, and humanity, with the more commoE 
military qualities of couragie and fierceness. The 
general acknowledgment of Europe to this effect 
has been gained by the Duke of Wellington for the 
British army. Along the whole line of road, 
through Flanders into France, and up to Paris, — 
I heard it repeated ; — and on my arrival in that 
city, on the occasion of my second visit to it, the 
good behaviour of the British troops was almost the 
first remark th^t saluted my ears, coming as it did 
from a French gentleman, who, as it afterwards 
turned out, was not much inclined to think kindly 
of the conquerors of France. The commander was 
no doubt assisted in producing this favourable im- 
pression by the national character of his men, 
which certainly does not include so much of fero- 
city as that of the French. It was said to me by 
a British officer, that our soldiers would steal readi- 
ly enough, if they were not kept to severe disci» 
pline, but that they were very seldom found to 
commit murder. The French soldier, on the other 
hand, very frequently manifested a propensity to 
deviate from simple murder into ingenious cruelty. 
The Duke of Wellington's ability has been pro- 
ved to be of a thoroughly British and sterling species. 
It includes those two fine qualities, honesty and 
common sense to temper, form, and apply the other 
more volatile properties of a well-furnished mind« 
It is not because a man can dance on the slack rope, 
and stand on one leg, and, sit on a chair nicely 
balanced, that he is to be considered likely to beat, 
in a fair trial of the natural manly powers, another 
who only treacis on sure ground, and is altogether 
more slow and sober in his movements and gait. 
QualUies should exist in a proper connexion, and 
form f. certain completeness of character, calculat- 
ed ^of the general conrexion of human affairs : — 
this completeness indicates a much higher order oC 



118 

intellect, than that from which emanates certain re- 
f^ardless and desultory impulses, which gain much 
only by leaving more unguarded, — which overcome 
by accidental surprise rather than by substantial 
?8ki!l, and therefore can only provide for a fortuitous 
preeminence, which is sure to vanish when circum- 
stances permit others to recover from their fortui- 
tous weakness. The Duke has won success ovit 
of difficulty and disheartedness, and reared the 
height of his triumphs by laying certainly their 
foundations. Thus, instead of giving us cause to 
fear as his enterprise became gradually of a vast 
r^and overshadowihg magnitude, he rendered its size 
a security for its strength, each advance resting 
solidly on what was next below, and being connect- 
ed with it as effect is connected with cause. To 
this filrst class of character the Duke of Wellington 
is generally considered to belong, by those foreign- 
ers who have written and spoken of him, — and it 
is not from his usual omission of the word victory 
in his dispatches, — or even from the hasty, or, let 
it be said, the slovenly style of those descriptions 
which he chooses to give of what he performs in no 
slight or slovenly way, — that his countrymen should 
derive a title to undervalue him. If they cannot 
understand his merits as a general, until he take 
a lesson from the graces of a French bulletin,— he 
will still no doubt be contented to say to them^ — 

-" Tis yet to know, 



Which, when 1 know th^t boasting is an honour, 
I shall promulgate." 

No one feature of his military character is more 
remarkable in the eyes of foreigners, than the dis- 
position which leads him to let his achievements 
go so far beyond his boastings. The simple lan- 
guage of his dispatch, announcing to the British 
government and nation the great victory of Wa- 



119 

terloo, struck an astonished admiratidn into the 
minds of the people of Brussels :•— what a different 
thing would have been made of it in one of SiiO' 
naparte's bulletins, they said ! But they felt the 
superiority of that cast of feeling which left the facts 
to speak for themselves. — In fine, a decidedly fftne- 
rick mark of high genius is to be found in the con- 
fident independence of the Duke of Wellington's 
plans, — formed as they are, in the silent and i nap- 
parent thouglitfalaess of his own breast, and ut- 
terly unknown to all about him, until they issue 
forth, in prompt and decided orde s, calling for 
obedience, not consultation, — and well jiisnfying 
the self-sufficiency in which they originate, by 
their own unfailing adequacy to produce the desired 
results. 

These observationson certain debateable points, 
may, not inappropriately, fill u() a s;)ace between 
the previous account of what occurred in the field 
of Waterloo on the day of action, and the descrip- 
tion of its appearance when I paid it a visit. Its 
suggestions, on the latter occasion, were chiefly 
addressed to the imagination, — and it may He as 
well, that, before proceeding to these, we have got 
rid of argument as well as of narration. 

The first visit to a field of battle, made by one 
totally unaccustomed to scenes of this description^ 
throws him perhaps more out of his ordinary habit&' 
of mind than any other conceiveable novelty 
would. He is now about to see what it was not 
very likely he ever should see, — such places being 
much out of the course of the inhabitants of these 
islands at least. The great cause of excitement, 
however, lies in his being on the point of convert- 
ing into a visible reality what had previously ex* 
isted in his mind as a shadowy, uncertain, but aw- 
ful fancy. In this respect it may rank next to 
leaving this world altogether, to realize our doubt- 



120 

lul but anxious ideas of the next. The shapings 
of the imaginiition will usually appear to have been 
formed on a scale of more prominent magnitude, 
and to include more of the external signs of the 
surprising, than the truth bears out : — but there is 
something in unexpected simplicity of appearance, 
and an unassuming aspect, when contrasted wifh 
prodigious actions, and important results, which is 
perhaps, on the whole, more touching, than visible 
" gorgons or chimeras dire." In this way, cer- 
tainly, I was struck by the plain of Waterloo. No 
display, I think, of carnage, violence, and devas- 
tation, could have had so pathetick an effect, as the 
quiet orderly look of its fields, brightened with the 
sunshine, but thickly strewed with little heaps of 
up-turned earth, which no sunshine could brighten. 
On these the eye instantly fell, — and the heart, 
having hut a slight call made upon it from without, 
pronounced with more solemnity to itself, the 
dreadful thing that lay below, scarcely covered 
with a sprinkling of mould.- — On a closer inspec- 
tion, the ravages of the battle were verj appcrent, 
— but neither the battered walls, splintered doors, 
and torn roofs of the farm houses of La Haye 
Sainte, astounding as they certainly were, — nor 
even the miserably scorched relicks of what must 
have been the beautiful Bougoumont, — with its 
wild orchard, its parterred flower garden, its gently 
dignified chateau, and its humble oflBces, now con- 
founded and overthrown by a visitation, which, 
from its traces, seemed to have included every 
possible sort of destruction, — not all these harsh 
features of the contest had, to my mind at least, so 
direct and irresistible an appeal, as the earthy hil- 
locks which tripped the step on crossing a hedge- 
row, clearing a fence, or winding along among the 
grass that overhung a secluded path way. In some 
spots they lay in thick clusters and long ranks ; in 



121 

others, one would present itself alone : betwixt 
these a bhick scathed circle told that tire had been 
employed to consume as worthless refuse, what pa- 
rents cherished, friends esteemed, and women 
loved. The summer wind that shook the branches 
of the trees, and waved the clover and the gaudy 
heads of the thistles, brouscht along with it a foul 
stench, still more hideous to the mind than to the 
offended sense. The foot that startled the small 
bird from its rest amidst the grass, disturbed at the 
same time, some poor remnant of a human being,-— 
either a bit of his shewy habiliment in which he 
took pride, — or of his warlike accoutrements which 
were his glory,— or of the frame work of his body 
itself, which he felt as comeliness and strength, the 
instant before it became a mass of senseless matter. 
The length of the road from Brussels to the vil- 
lage of Waterloo, is about nine miles, and the 
view, as you leave the city, is very pleasing, and 
even beautiful. The forest of Soignies soon re- 
ceives you, and it has a deep, matted, impervious 
look, which more frequently characterizes the 
woods of the continent than those of our islands, 
and which gives them a good deal of poetical 
interest. My companion, a military friend, pointed 
out spots, as we passed along, where the troops 
hailed for an instant, — where such a general offi- 
cer rode by, — where some particular circumstance 
of confusion or distress took place, when the 
wounded and the baggage were ^turning. The 
remains of bayonet sheaths, the tatters of caps 
and jackets, were seen lying along the sides of the 
road, when we got about four or five miles from 
Brussels, and so continued for the rest of the way. 
Manj'^ bodies were buried along the whole track, 
the wounded having sunk at different distances as 
they crept from the field of battle, according as 
their strength failed them. For many weeks after 

12 



122 

the engagement, labourers were employed upon the 
line of this road to cover the remains of human 
beings. Behind our cardage, was an English 
sociable j with a party of our countrymen and-wo* 
men on the same errand with ourselves : — before it, 
was an English tandem ; and, at the doors of the 
small inns, belonging to one or two hamlets, several 
English equipages were standing. The people of 
this foreign land, seemed ail to look as if they ex- 
pected us, when we met them on the road. They 
nodded their heads to each other when they passed 
us, — as if saying, — " More of the English for Wa- 
terloo !" At last we entered this pretty consider- 
able village, the name of which has such an import 
in the minds of its visitors, that its quiet rustick 
look almost surprises them. Waterloo ! what a 
change has suddenly taken place in all tlie asso- 
ciations of that word ! From the obscure indica- 
tion of the spot where a few dull Flemish rusticks 
had their humble abodes, and went through their 
monotonous daily tasks, it has been raised to a par 
with the most famous names of the world, never 
to be forgotten until some interruption happens to 
the human race, and sure to form the inspirement 
of many a future impulse of patriotick emotion, of 
fiery ambition, and perpetuating and adorning 
genius. Our carriage rolled on past its humble 
ehurch, — while at the opposite inn, we saw a col- 
lection of vehicles, all belonging to strangers,^ — 
horses led by bqys backwards and forwards,^— and 
a bustle almost as great as occurs in a country 
town of England, when it happens that a horse- 
race, or a boxing match, takes place in its vicinity. 
It is more than a mile from Waterloo to the 
small hamlet of Mont St. Jean. Probably the 
Duke of Wellington took little or no note of these 
few houses, in the immediate front of which his 
army was formed, and which might therefore have 



123 

been expected to give their name to the batlle. 
notwithstanding that his head-quarters were at 
Waterloo, at the inn of which he slept on the night 
of the 17th. Whether it were accident, or inten- 
tion, however, that caused His Grace's selection of 
the latter place, to distinguish his achievement, we 
have reason to be pleased that such a choice was 
made, — for the appellation that must occur so often 
in future history, and which is so frequently refer- 
red to by those of the present time, accords well 
with the language of the people, to whom, as a 
property it belongs. 

Almost every house in the hamlet of Mont St 
Jean, poured forth women and old men, to every 
fresh arrival of visitors, — who eagerly offered 
relicks of the battle for sale. From the complete 
cuirass, the valuable sabre, carbine, and case of pis- 
tols, down to the buttons that had been torn from the 
jackets of the slain, — all the wreck of the field had 
been industriously collected, and each article 
found ready purchasers. Letters taken from the 
pockets of the dead, were frequently offered, and 
were always eagerly bought. In a bundle, which fell 
into my hands, I found one addressed to a " dear bro- 
ffe^r," written fron) Lyons, and congratulating the- 
person to whom it was sent, on his being so for- 
tunate as to receive from the Emperour a situation 
in the old imperial guard. It mentions the death 
of a near relation, and saj^s, " but we must console 
ourselves by forced This letter, with its congratu- 
lations, and condolences, could have come to hand 
only a day or two before he who received it was 
removed beyond all further loss or gain. — " Here's 
fine revolution ;" as Hamlet says, " an' we had the 
trick to see it." — In the pockets of the dead Ger- 
man soldiers, it is said, several bibles were found, — 
and in those of the slaughtered French, many of 
the loose pamphlets and collections of songs which 
are vended in the Palais Roval. 



124 

From St. Jeap, the road immediately rises op 
the back of the ridge,— on the height and in the 
front of which, the infantry of the Duke of Wel- 
lington's army was formed in line. The cavalry, 
at the beginning of the battle, were posted on the 
Bt. Jean side of the eminence. The ascent is easy : 
you reach the top unexpectedly, and the Avhole 
field of battle is then at once before the eye. Its 
sudden burst has the effect of a shock, and few, I 
believe, are found to put any question for the first 
five minutes. The point from whence this com- 
plete view of the scene, so often pictured in ima- 
gination, first presents itself, is one of the most 
Interesting that it includes. It is the summit of 
the ridge close to the road, over which hangs an 
old picturesque tree, with a few straggling blanches 
projecting in grotesque shapes from its ragged trunk. 
The British position extended on the right and 
left of the road, for the extent of about a mile and 
three quarters, along the top of a continued line of 
gentle eminences, immediately confronted by very 
similar heights, distant from half to three quarters 
of a mile, along which the French army was posted. 
The intermediate plain, and the ascent of our 
ridge, form the field of battle. The tree, already 
mentioned, fixed on the bank above the high road 
from Brussels to Charleroi, denotes the centre of 
our position, and, the Duke of Wellington having 
been near it the greater part of the day, it goes by 
the nairie of the " Wellington tree." I found it 
much shattered Avith balls, both grape and musket ; 
all of which had been picked out by visitors. Its 
branches and trunk were terribly splintered. It 
still retained, however, the vitality of its growth, 
and will, probably, for many future years, be the 
first saluting sign to our children and our children's 
children, who, with feelings of a sacred cast, come 
to gaze on this theatre of their ancestors' deeds. 



123 

We who now describe them, must soon join those 
whose fall we commemorate,— and other genera- 
tions will have their curiosity excited, only to fol- 
low us where all human interests cease ; — but this 
venerable tree will remain, a long survivour of the 
grand battle in which it was no slight sufferer, — 
a monument of its circumstances, — a conspicuous 
mark to denote and to impress. Its old head, 
rising over the graves of so many gallant men, 
who dropped under what it withstood, struck 
one as conveying a mortifying reproach of the 
weakness of our species. An empire has with- 
ered under its shade ; the hopes of ambition, the 
prayers of affection, the strength of the brave, 
and the skill of talent, lie abortive beneath its 
branches : yet it will continue to put forth its 
leaves in the spring, — to break the winds of autumn, 
—and to sustain the snows of winter, — to over- 
hang succeeding crops, as it overhung the thinning 
ranks of armies, — to shelter the bird, whose note 
shall echo over fields, that groaned under the 
crushing wheels of cannon, and shook under the 
thundering tramp of charging squadrons. 

A little way down from this tree, keeping neap 
to the road, is the farm of La Have Sainte^ Here 
I saw, for the first time in my life, a specimen of 
what war does to the habitations of the peaceful. 
The spectacle was one of horrour, and when, con- 
trasted in the mind with the quiet and secure cot- 
tages and farm houses of Britain, enforced a lively 
sense of the good fortune of our country. The gar- 
den was a heap of devastation : hedges were level- 
led, walls broken down. The door was riddled 
through and through with all sorts of shot, and 
furnished a most appalling proof of the fury of the 
attack, and the determination of the defence. This 
post, after a most gallant resistance by the party to 
whom it was entrusted, was forced by the enemy, 
and every soul within the building bayoneted. 
12^ -- 



126 

its situation must have rendered this a most alarm* 
ing event. On entering into the court yard, the 
aspect of wretchedness and destruction was still 
more fearful. The farmer and his family had hastily 
fled, — nor was there as yet any indications of their 
returning. A little child came out to us, begging 
for a sous; the roofs of the dwelling house and 
offices were knocked into great holes by bombs^ 
and cannon balls : the windows were hideous 
wrecks,— not a pane of glass remaining in the 
whole range, — the frames all broken, and the frag- 
ments hanging most forlornly. The extent of the 
destruction went beyond all I had ever conceiv- 
ed of such scenes, assisted as one's imagination 
has of late been by numerous and minute descrip- 
tions. 

From the farm yard I walked into an enclosed 
orchard : the combat here had been dreadfully 
fierce : the paper of the exploded cartridges still 
lay thickly on the ground, and the caps of the sol- 
diers were strewed about, most of them having 
holes through them, by which had entered the 
death of their wearers. The heart exerted itself to 
discredit the eye, when the latter testified that to 
some of these decaying bits of felt or leather, the 
corrupting remains of the heads of human beings 
were attached. In this orchard the trees were 
numerous, and in general very slender; but nei- 
ther my companion nor myself, though we took a 
regular survey for the purpose, could find one that 
had escaped being hit by a ball. After observing 
this, I was only astonished that the number of men 
destroyed on these dreadful occasions is not greater 
than it is. 

Many small heaps of newly up-turned earth, dis- 
figured the pleasant green of this orchard, — which 
we quitted by a torn aperture in its hedge, through 
^hich the French had forced a violent passagCj un- 



12/ 

der a shower of shot, and at the point of the bayonet. 
The flowered twigs now hung beautifully and si- 
lently over the relicks of the carnage, and the signs 
of the tumult. A hasty step across the small ditch, 
brought me almost upon one of the graves, that 
were dropped here about very thickly. The putrid 
smell was extremely strong, and the bodies seem- 
ed to be hardly covered : — a narrow rural footpath 
wound itself, emblematick of the gentleness and 
peace of nature, through these horrid monuments 
of man's fury. It led us from the fields to the road, 
along which we advanced towards the French po- 
sition. Bodies were extended here by the side of 
the waggon ruts, only covered with the loose gravel ; 
a man's head shewed itself to terrify away the look 
from one of these heaps. As the road began to 
rise towards the inn of La Belle Alliance, we came, 
by crossing it, in a direction to the left, as looking 
towards the French position, to the spot where 
Buonaparte stood, partially sheltered by a sand 
bank, when he was farthest in advance, and direct- 
ed the last charge made by his imjierial guard. 
Turning now again to look back on the English po- 
sition, the extent of field on the other side of the 
road from La Haye Sainte, upward to the ridge 
which is separated from the Wellington tree, by the 
same common track, appeared to have been the 
theatre of still more terrible combating than any 
of which we had as yet observed the vestiges. 
It was here that the imperial guard charged iiuoa 
the hedge where the highlanders and Scotch greys 
were drawn up, — and it was here that they were 
slaughtered. It was from this side too, that the 
Prussians arrived, overwhelming the already routed 
French. The graves here lay in large collections, 
— and pits contained the bodies of hundreds of 
horses. Bayonet sheaths, hits of caps, and the 
rags of clothes, covered the ground. 



128 

We walked on to the famous house of La Belle Al- 
liance. It is the most convenient mark for indica- 
ting Buonaparte's place in the battle, as the tree 
previously mentioned, denotes the post of our com- 
mander. In this, as in other respects, the latter has 
the advantage: La Belle Alliance had been sufficient- 
ly repaired to enable its proprietor to derive profit 
from the circumstances of the time, it had all the vul- 
gar coarse appearance, when I saw it, of a crowded 
suttling house, and gave a turn to the feelings, very 
different from that which they receivtid under the 
influence of the Wellington monument. Its iwo 
disordered rooms were full of people drinking, as 
they stood or walked about. Every one was put- 
ting questions, calling for refreshments, their horses, 
or their guides. There were four or five British 
parties on the field on the day of my visit to it, 
and two foreign ones, I believe. Miserable para- 
lyticks, aged men and women bent double, and dir- 
ty ragged children, gathered about you here, cla- 
morously importunate that you should buy from 
them eagles, buttons, sergeants' books of companies, 
grape-shot, and other refuse of the battle. — " Did 
these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at 
loggats with them /" 

The two rooms of this Flemish publick 
house, offered a most singular spectacle in the 
scribbling on their walls, which were covered, like 
a seat in Kensington Gardens, with names, inscrip- 
tions, drawings, devices, and poetry ; all the fruits 
of those " longings after immortality," that are pe- 
culiarly impulsive in the breasts of our country 
folks, if w^e may judge by their peculiar taste for 
these records, written and hieroglyphick. The 
whimsical humour that distinguishes the publick 
character of these islands, had not been at all re- 
pressed by the awful circumstances of the situation* 
A " Mr. John Todd," had been careful to leave 



129 

behind him information that he " came to the field 
of i)dttle at Waterloo, the 10th Juiy 1815,"— and 
some one had done him the justice to supply the 
deficiency, for which his modesty was accounta- 
ble, by adding, "vm?, vidi, vici T There was 
something less pleasant in the bit of biography, 
tacked by some impartial person to the rather too 
concise history, which an individual had thought 
proper to give of his interesting self, in the words 
" Thomas Jackson :" a pencil inscription, in ano- 
ther hand, rendered the memorial less meagre, 
.and more instructive, by stating, that " he was 
hanged at the last assizes for sheep stealing !" The 
portrait of " Thomis SutclitFe, (>f the second life 
guards," had been delineated on the wall by some 
friendly hand, in coal outline : — a critick on the 
fine arts, jealous probably of the honour thus paid, 
had endeavoured to dejjreciate it by putting the 
words " ugly iheef,^'' in very prominent connexion 
with this otherwise flattering imitation. The higher 
flights of the muse were not wanting in this col- 
lection of the effusions of elegant imaginations. 
The following verse seemed to me worthy of selec- 
tion from several : 

" The tyrant thought our army to destroy, 
And Belgium to regain by iiis deceit, 
But British valour did his hopes annoy, 
And warm reception did each project meet." 

Less splendid than these commemorations of in- 
dividuals, was the small branch of fir, which had 
been stuck on the top of a heap of earth, at the 
back of the house, under which was laid the body 
of a French general, who had died here of the 
wounds which he received in the battle that raged 
below. 

From La Belle Alliance we walked across the 
ridcre of the French position, to the left, as now 
looking to the English lines, until we reached the 



130 

ruins of Hiigoumont, which formed a strong post m 
advance of the Brritish right, hehl by a small 
detachment of the English guards and Hanove^ 
rians, in spite of the most furious attempts of the 
enemy, to get possession of it. In the course of 
our walk, we stumbled into the deep holes made 
by the shot from our guns, which had plunged into 
the midst of the French columns. Every now 
and then we crossed broad rugged tracks, which 
seemed as if they had been swept by some fiery 
up-tearing stream, that had hardened in excrescen- 
ces on the surface of the earth. These were the 
traces of the squadrons of French cavalry, and 
denoted the directions in which they gallopped 
into the battle. Here, too, the heaps of dead were 
scattered about, — and numerous parties «)f the pea- 
santry were employed in raking more earth over 
the bodies, their first thin covering of mould having 
been in many instances washed away by the rains. 
The gentle ascent, through a beautiful orchard 
wood, to the chateau of Hugoiimont, presented the 
most delightful rural images, in close connexion 
with the unequivocal signs of death and horrour. 
Every tree here, also, was wounded by the balls, — ' 
and the fragments of caps and clothing, indicated 
what was covered by the many brown hillocks of 
earth, over which vie were obliged to step. 

The buildings of Hugoumont were infinitely 
more shattered than even those of La Haye Sainte. 
They belong to a gentleman of independent cir- 
cumstances, who, before the battle, had in this 
spot one of the pleasantest, and most tranquil-look- 
ing retreats that can be imagined. The garden, 
which had been laid out with great care, in the 
old style of parterres and walks, was the chief 
post of the English guards, who obstinately resisted 
the inveterate attacks of the Ir^rge columns moved 
by the enemy on this, at times insulated, position. 



131 

These attacks were the commencement of the bat- 
tle, arid were repeated in the violent style of 
Buonaparte, with encreased means, but were all 
finally unsuccessful. In one corner the most ter 
rible ravages attested the violence with which the 
enemy strove to force a passage : trees were felled 
and laid cross- wise for the purpose of defence, — 
and in a single spot, — a mere point, — fifty dead bo- 
dies lie together, where (hey all fell. Near to this, 
there is a black scorched space, where six hundred 
human corpses, found in these grounds, were col- 
lected and burnt. Fire had been set to the buildings 
in the course of the engagement, — and, in short, the 
whole place seemed to have been the theatre of 
some sapernatural mischief, — some celebration of 
infernal rites, — or manifestation of heavenly ven- 
geance. 

Proceeding round, to return to the centre of the 
British position by its right, we went along the 
ridge which here bends backward in the shape of 
a semi-circle. Near a cluster of trees, the fight 
seemed to have been very heavy : about this spot 
I observed the complete impression of a man's 
body on the ground, as distinctly marked as if he 
had fallen on the snow : — he had been of a large 
size, probably either a life-guards-man or a cuiras- 
sier, — and the hole, which had taken the shape of 
his head, was full of a corrupted fluid, that one 
shuddered to look at. Downward from this, along 
the easy slope, w^hich slants off to the farm of La 
Haye Sainte. the charges of the cavalry had tram- 
pled deep scarrings into the ground: all the sur- 
face of the field here was torn and scattered by the 
hurricane of the battie : — here too we came upon 
vast pits, in each of which hundreds of horses had 
been buried, and which fiung a fearful stench over 
the whole extent of this most impressive scene. 

Returned agnin to the Wellington tree, we walk- 
ed from it, along the position of the left wing of the 



132 

British army. A broken and ragged hedge fringes 
the top of the line of eminence after crossing ihe 
road, and a long rank of graves, lying under this 
hedge, intimates the loss of the brave highlanders, 
who from here met and destroyed the imperial 
guard. 

But enough of particular description has now 
been given ; — I hope, however, not too much. 
The publick and private interests, connecting 
themselves with the events that have ieft these 
afifeciing vestiges, warrant a considerable minute- 
ness of detail. Curiosity cannot be easily surfeit- 
ed, nor feeling palled on such a theme; and I trust 
that 1 have not come too late to experience a por- 
tion of the advantage which has thus been enjoy- 
ed by the many writers who have taken Waterloo, 
for their subject. But to my mind, 1 must confess, 
it aj^pears, that there can be no tiring in dwelling 
on what directs and kindles the contemplation of 
gigantick etforts of character, called up by stupen- 
dous circumstances, including almost every ingre- 
dient of sublimity, such as pomo, terrour, triumph, 
power, and weakness. I would set him down, at 
once, as either diseased or dull, who would object, 
either in the tone of humanity or philosophy, to 
the gross exhibitions of these scenes. It is true 
the materials are of blood, and the various signs of 
carnage, — but the tem()er th it shrinks from the 
Si)ectacle cannot know of what human nature con- 
sist, of what it is capable, and how it should be 
treated. Some who are forward to represent in a 
favourable light, that faulty frame of jjersonal dis- 
position which enaienders wars, shrink back within 
their pampered sensibilities, from all that can 
direct their imaginations to the actual features of 
these mortal contests. But this is surely reversing 
the he !•' ' r(>! ?■ of a weU-constituted mind: 
the external phenomeaon is often grand, when the 



133 

cause is dark and pestilential : — the effects in those 
who are influenced, belong to the highest order of 
poetry, — but the influence itself is hateful selfish- 
ness. For the few, there may be exaltations and 
exercises of spirit, of a purer and loftier kind than 
any that great battles can furnish, — but the anima- 
tions of the latter are by far the most universally 
operative to lift, to inflame, to agitate, — to stir the 
human afiections, — to extend the connected chain 
of feelings, — to call forth what is most peculiarly 
human in the nature of man,— what chiefly dis- 
tinguishes him from the inferiour animals. What 
genius can do for some by its exertions in litera- 
ture and art, — a battle can do for all,— namely, 
strengthen the action of the faculties, widen the 
sphere of the sympathies, and encrease the ardour 
of the passions. A battle and a devotional exer- 
cise, are the onl}^ means of raising up the style of 
thought and feeling in common breasts, to the 
standard of keen spirits and reline<i f ncies. There 
is on these occasions a grand community of soul, 
pervading multitudes, who, in all common cases, 
and on all common subjects, have scarcely a point 
of contact, or a clue to sympathy. There will 
ever be exceptions;— there will ever be grovellers 
and dastards in war, and hypocrites in religion, — 
but enthusiasm generally takes place under tl ese 
stimulants, — and enthusiasm causes *' the toe of tlie 
peasant to come near the heel of the courtier." 

The feeling on leaving the field of Waterloo, 
was that which attends committing a paltry deser- 
tion. What right had the living thus, as a matter 
of course, to quit the graves of the dead, — to go 
about their pleasures, and their profits,— to enjoy 
their friends and their families, — to talk, and to 
dress, to eat, and to slee}) ? Thousands of those 
who were accustomed to do all this, — who were 
dear to their friends and to their families, — who 
had tastes for pleasures, and calls to business, — en- 



134 

tered it never to quit it more : — and what interest 
had they in the cause, more than the crowds who 
took a summer morning's walk over their bodies, 
to return when wearied, and derive consequence 
from the exploit! There is nothing to be said for 
it, but as he has said, who says what is best for 
every thing and every body. 

" Why, let the stnicken deer go weep, 

The hart ungalled play : 
For some must watch, while some may sleep, — 

Thus runs the world away." — 

On returning to the village of Waterloo, I went 
over from the inn to the church :— the boys around 
the door stood there in waiting for British visitors, 
and made rather a riotous play of shewing the sim- 
ple monuments to some of the slain, which have 
been put up against the walls by their surviving 
brother officers. On two plain tablets of stone, 
the names of several gallant gentlemen of the foot 
guards, and of the fifteenth hussars, are engraved, 
as having " fallen gloriously in the battles of Qua- 
tre Bras and Waterloo ;'' and it is added, that these 
memorials have been erected by the officers of the 
regiments specified, in commemoration of their 
companions. The boys, who were not the most 
congenial associates in such a pilgrimage, but 
whom it was impossible to shake otf, went on, 
laughing and calling, to shew us the way, along 
the path of a pleasant little wood, to the spot, rural, 
quiet, and secluded, where two flat stones, lying on 
the ground, pointed out the graves of Lieutenant 
Colonel Fitzgerald of the second life guards, and of 
Colonel De Langrehr, commandant of the first 
battalion of Bremen. 

I am now about to bid adieu to a theme which 
has occupied a very considerable portion of these 
pages, and from which to any other, must be a de- 
scent. A German, lecturing on the drama in Vi- 
enna in the year 1808, alluded, in the hearing of 



135 

three hundred persons, many of them of high rank 
and reputation, and all of them of the respectable 
classes, to the astonishing publick greatness and 
energy of the British nation. The most signal 
proof of these qualities, was then yet to come ;---it 
has now been given, and the continent has receiv- 
ed an impression of their existence, that will never 
be effaced. It remains for ourselves to provide for 
the future, and to render our country an exception 
to the common history of nations, which generally 
commences political and social decline from the 
apex of military fame. It is true, that the exer- 
tions necessary to attain to the latter, have a de- 
bauching as well as an exhausting tendency, — 
but Britain has, more surely and fully than any other 
state ever had, the principles of counteraction and 
renovation within herself. Difficulties must follow 
these enormous efforts, — but what we have esca- 
ped is to be taken into account, when we sit down 
to estimate our national condition. The great mat- 
ter is, that men of influence and power among us, 
should see with a clear eye into what forms the 
very essence of the strength of Great Britain, — 
and have hearts good enough, and iiUeilects 
.sound enough, to dispose them to address them- 
selves to strengthen and encourage the only real 
vital principle of their country's pre-eminence 
hitherto, and the source from whence must come 
her recovery from an exhaustation, that need only 
be temporary, and that attaches no disgrace. 
From the miserable witling captiousness of an op- 
])osition, which, like the common cur, barks without 
discrimination, and bites at the heel when the body 
is above its reach, — it is not likely that they will 
consent to take any lesson : — the natural, and 
scarcely blameable feeling is to kick the yelping 
creature away, the moment it opens its mouth. 
But there is a dut}^ owing to the present time, to it^ 
reputation, and to its necessities, which presses 
most incunibently on all those who stand by the 



ISC 

wheel that shapes the course of the state ; — and a 
vast amount of hope depends on their being above 
turning, either in ignorance or irritation, from the 
honest discharge of this duty, because they have 
been^pestered with false claims made in its name, 
and forced to cope with fearful evils, arising out of 
profligate perversions of its obligations. The most 
pressing necessity was to get rid of the wicked and 
injurious imposition, — but the great and lasting ad- 
vantage must be found in acknowledging and prac- 
tising what is just, valid, and wise. The political 
institutions of society are at least as far from hav- 
ing reached perfection, as the arts and sciences ; 
and if change and experiment are not so practica- 
ble in the former as in the latter, yet, in proportion 
as it is mischievous to tamper with them but when 
the occasion is clear, the of)portunity striking, and 
the call urgent, it is dangerons and guilty to with- 
stand those great invitatirms which at intervals 
summon mankind to improve their condition. We 
are all ready to acknowledge how much it has 
been improved, and nothing can be more clear 
than the proofs, that the improvement has been 
shamefully retarded by the seltishness and preju- 
dice of individuals, who arrogantly pronouncedjudg- 
ment for the publick, according to their views for 
themselves. It would be monstrous folly to sup- 
pose that the present race is quite out of the risk of 
suifering by such an errour, — and it w^ould be stu- 
pidly base to sit down all these disturbances, that 
have of late years agitated Eurone, to a wilful and 
unfounded temper of popular insubordination : — the 
convulsion can only fairly be considered as a na- 
tural working, accompanied with painful and diseas- 
ed symptoms, but occasioned by the growth of 
men's minds beyond the inslitotions that had their 
origin in a very inferiour stale of information. Nor 
should England consider herself out of the need of 
advancing herself further, because she is already 



13? 

advanced beyond her neighbours ; on the contrary, 
her strength and wisdom lie in maintaining her wont- 
ed prerogative of being the first to move forward 
in a safe road, — of first catching the bright prospect 
of further attainments, — and securing for herself, 
in the independence and fortitude of her judgment, 
what others tardily copy from her practice. The 
vigorous habits of action and thought, which her 
rulers have found so valuable in the late struggle 
for national fame and pre-eminence, are only to be 
preserved, as they were engendered, — namely, by 
admitting popular opinion to busy itself with the 
internal affairs of the country, to exercise itself 
freely on the character of its political establish^ 
ments, to grapple on even ground with professional 
and official prejudices and prepossessions, and final- 
ly to knock ev ery thing down that does not stand 
firm in its own moral strength. — This is England's 
duty to herself, — and to the world at large she 
owes an equally sacred one : viz. so to regulate the 
application of her influence and power, that it shall 
oppose no tendency to good, — that it shall never 
be available to evil and bigotted designs, masking 
themselves under canting professions, — but justify 
those loud and confident calls which she has every 
where addressed to generous hearts and fine spirits,, 
demanding that they should feel and join her cause 
as a common one for the honour, the interests, and 
the hopes of human nature. It may be doubted 
whether she has, in every respect, duly maintained 
the high ground on which she assumes to stand,—- 
and that this is said in no uncandid or malignant 
motive, the readers of the foregoing part of this 
work will surely have no hesitation to acknow- 
ledge. But I should blush for the exultation previ- 
ously expressed, if it were hostile to discriminationj 
or sprung from a disposition careless of principle. 
If it was, as England pretended, in pure indigna- 
tion against tyranny, and the pretensions of villain^ 

13 * 



138 

ous imposture, that she fought in Spain, — and not 
solely against Buonaparte as the enemy of Eng- 
land's teas and muslins, her severe maritime code, 
and her suspicious Indian conquests ; — if it was for 
the Spanish people, — meaning, in her description 
of it, the cause of liberty, independence, virtue, and 
good faith, — that she combatted so gloriously, — is 
it becoming, that the signs of personal esteem 
should be conveyed from the head of the English 
government, to him, who, as an ungrateful despot, 
as an enslaver of his peo[)le contrary to law, as a 
perfidious ingrate, ought to be deemed quite as dis- 
tasteful, if not so dangerous an usurper as Buona- 
parte ? No one, surely, now-a-days, will be found 
in this country tomiiatain, that mere birth alone 
constitutes royal legitimacy. If so narrow an in- 
terpretation were that, according to which the prin- 
ciple is understood by that combination of persons 
in authority over society who have done so much 
to render it paramount, and who say they are re- 
solved to keep it so,— mankind would have much 
less reason for congratulation than they are in- 
structed to believe they possess. The glory of 
the people of England has been well proved in 
what they have sustained and achieved ;-— the 
chief glory of their rulers remains still to be proved, 
in their shewing to the world at large the general 
rectitude of the motives by which they have been 
actuated in their policy : — in their showin^r, that 
the expense and sacrifice of every sort, incurred to 
establish the preponderance of English councils, 
and ihe invincibility^ of English arms, — have a bet- 
ter justification than the selfish arrogance of a state 
bent on enriching itself; — that they have originat- 
ed in the consistent pursuit of fair and honourable 
views, embracing the great connexion between 
safety and integrity, and the intimate union of po- 
litical interests with the principles of political jus- 
tice and gradual improvement 



139 



CHAPTER VIIL 



The road from Brussels to Paris was by ne 
means very open when 1 took my departure from 
the former to proceed to the latter capital. The 
rout by Lisle was a very circuitous one, but it 
was the only one by which the people at the dili- 
gence offices would guarantee the safe progress of 
travellers. I could not, however, brook the idea 
of being four days and nights in travelling between 
two places scarcely distant from each other tw^o 
hundred miles; 1 therefore preferred taking my 
chance by way of Valenciennes, although the 
French army in that important fortress, and about 
its neighbourhood, had not yet so settled into sub- 
mission to the reinstated government, as to render 
it certain that I should be able to accomplish the 
whole journey. 

A Belgian lady who was going from Brussels 
to Mons, the last fortress within the frontier of the 
kingdom of the Netherlands, gave me very agree- 
able proofs of the estimation in which the British 
army was held by the people of this country. The 
Scotch, however, 1 must say, — drily adhering to 
the evidence of facts, and protecting myself en- 
tirely (if such a thing be possible) from the par- 
tialities of a Scotchman, — seemed to occu|)y the 
first place of good-will in every breast. My fellow 
traveller, as one of her first questions, asked me if 
I was Scotch ? Luckily I could answer in the 
affirmative : " ah," she said, they were bien aifna- 
hies et tres jolis.^-^^^as I military?" Unfortu- 
nately I could not say yes to this ; and her coun- 
tenmce rather fell from the height of its animated 
cordiality, at my negative : — but it still retained 



140 

much friendly warmth as she declared that the 
soldiers, my compatriots, were " tres braves, et Men 
discrets.'''' She had seen a military friend, with 
his arm in a sling, bid me good bye at the door of 
the diligence, — had he been severely wounded, she 
inquired ? Yes, he had: — " ah, pauvre jeun horn- 
me /" " But was he recovering ?" — "• Oh yes, cer- 
tainly." " Ah, I am so hajipy !" 

In the several towns through which we passed 
before reaching Mons, I discovered the same su- 
periour neatness to the French towns, that I have 
before noticed; and all the signs of means adequate 
to the comfort of the inhabitants in their various 
ranks. 

We passed many detachments of English troops 
on the road, and in the towns I saw them sitting 
on the steps of the doors of the houses, resting 
after their march, and apparently on a most good 
humoured pleasant footing with the people of the 
country. As it drew towards evening, the mono- 
tonous sound and dull motion of the vehicle had 
thrown me into a kind of stu pitied half-sleep, in the 
course of which I heard, with an imperfect confu- 
sed consciousness, a female voice, loudly exclaiming, 
in the true Irish accent, " Coachman /" — " I say 
Coachman /" — " Coachman, will you hear now /'*' 
This singular address to a Flemish postilion, crack- 
ing his long whip at the tails of his horses, could 
not fail to rouse me with something of astonishment* 
I was the more surprised because I had not before 
supposed that there was any body in or about the 
diligence who could speak English but myself. 
Putting my head out of the window, I almost en- 
countered that of a soldier's wife, who was leaning 
half her body from the cabriolet, continuing to vo- 
ciferate " Coachman,'''' while the man on the horse 
was looking Lack at her, with the most ludicrous 
expression of not understanding, mingled with 



141 

benevolent mirth on his face. I inquired of the 
woman what she wanted ? At the first syllable of 
my interrogation she turned quickly round, and, in 
a tone of almost frantick joy, cried out — " Oh^ Lord 
bless you., Sir, — is it English that I hear again /" 
She had a female companion wilh her ; they were 
both soldiers' wives, — and had intended to go, by 
the diligence to Lisle, near which town they un- 
derstood they would find their husbands. They 
had, however, taken the wrong conveyance from 
Brussels, and were now not far from Mons, — con- 
siderably out of the line of march which the regi- 
ment they wished to join had pursued. Their dis- 
tress was loudly, but somewhat whimsically ex- 
pressed, when I explained to them their unlucky 
mistake : but they prayed many blessings on my 
head, when I assured them that I would not leave 
them in Mons, without finding out some one be- 
longing to our army, who would give them advice 
and assistance what steps to take. 

About eleven o'clock, on a very dark night, the 
diligence arrived at the outworks of the fortifica- 
tions of Mons. A centinel challenged us, — and 
we were obliged to stop till orders came from the 
guard house, before the gate was jealously opened. 
Strong temporary works had been formed with 
turf and palisadoes, and connected with the regu- 
lar fortifications, as it was very likely that this 
town would have to sustain one of the first and 
fiercest bursts of the late war. These new works 
had entirely interrupted the usual road, and our 
vehicle had to wind slowly through the zig-zag 
embank menls, — challenged by centinels at every 
few yards,— until at length it issued again into the 
old road. We had still to go over the draw-bridge, 
and through the town gates. These precautions 
were not uiinecess-^ry, thoisgh the war seemed in 
point of tact over; for the country between Mons 



142 

and Valenciennes was infested with lawless corps 
of French soldiers, who were not at all unlikely to 
try a desperate enterprise, and had committed 
many pieces of violence and rapine. 

The diligence at length stopped in the great 
place of Mons : most of the continental towns 
have spacious places, of which they are very 
proud, for holding their markets, and around which 
are built their municipal buildings, court-houses, 
&c. That at Mons is very fine and large. It was 
mid-night before we halted at the door of the office. 
The two soldiers' wives soon made their appear- 
ance from the cabriolet, to claim the performance 
of my promise. It took the people employed, 
however, almost an hour to untie and bring down 
from the top the immense mass of luggage ; and 
untilall was fairly arranged and checked by the 
way bill, none of the passengers were permitted to 
move. They are certainly very accurate in the 
conducting of all these publick establishments ia 
the parts of the continent where I have been, — 
but they are accurate by the strict enforcement of 
clumsy and unpleasant regulations, — by making 
restraints supply the want of good management.— 
by scrupling not to sacrifice the time, feelings, and 
convenience of the publick, for the sake of pre- 
serving their property, which might be equally 
well preserved by gentler means, coupled with 
more business-like habits. 

At last I set off with the women, on the bunt 
through this strange place, at one o'clock in the 
morning. For some time I could gain no infor- 
mation likely to be of any service to them. I 
was told that there was no British deta*chment sta- 
tioned in Mons, and nobody, that I could find 
stirring at that unseasonable hour, was very sure 
that there were even any British troops at that 
time marching through ^t. On recrossing t^i^ 



148 

large market place for the fifth or sixth time, with 
the women and their countless bundles following 
me close, and groaning out many an " Oh, dear !" 
I was lucky enough to fail in with a sergeant of one 
of the highland regiments, who was then going to 
prepare for the ^arly march of a few convalescent 
men. He very readily took my fellow passengers ofif 
my hands, assuring me that he could give them seats 
on a baggage waggon, that would pass through 
where they were likely to join their husbands. 
I had many blessings from these poor women when 
we parted. 

The affair, however light it may look on paper, 
was nevertheless productive of serious embarrass- 
ment to me, in the peculiar circumstances of my 
situation. The luggage of a traveller requires 
him to look pretty closely after it,— nor is it a mat- 
ter of course to get comfortably housed in these 
foreign towns, on arriving in them at so late an 
hour. But the difficulty and trouble I had thus 
incurred, were productive of a piece of very good 
fortune. My great anxiety was to get rapidly on 
to Paris, and by having been kept from my bed, in 
the way I have described, till two in the morning, 
I was able to avail myself of an opportunity that 
offered of starting, about half an hour before three, 
for Valenciennes, in one of the open carriages of 
the country 

We passed in the early twilight through the vil- 
lage of Jemappe, rendered famous by Dumourier's 
great victory over the Austrians. This may be 
deemed the commencement of the system, which, 
with some changes of feature, but few or none of 
principle, continued to characterize the history of 
revolutionized France, till it was closed in the con- 
summation of defeat and disgrace at Waterloo. 

We had travelled, I think, about twelve miles 
from Mons, when we passed the French frontier,— 



144 

and, shortly afterwards, stopped at a small inn, 
which, it was very evident, was worse furnished, 
worse arranged, and less ready, than those of the 
same class that I had seen in Flanders. We 
arrived at the gates of Valenciennes, which is dis- 
tant about twenty-one miles from Mons, at six in 
the morning, just as they were about to open them. 
We had, therefore, travelled pretty quickly. 

The regular soldiers had been removed from this 
town when it sent in its submission to the King: — 
a motley straggling grouj-e of national guards 
marched up to the gates, with drums beating, and 
admitted our vehicle, togi^ther with a crowd of 
peasants, male and female, who brought their milk, 
vegetables, &c. for the supply of the inhabitants, 
and who had been for some time waiting the mo- 
ment of admission. These (lersons were subjected 
to a summary searching of their persons, by the 
douaniers who were in attendance. We were 
treated with politeness : my passport was scarcely 
looked at. 

There are three lines of fortifications to protect 
this immensely strong place, the works of which 
are contrived according to the very best principles 
of the art. At a small distance you see its spires 
rising above its houses, and the approach seems 
without restraint or o; stacle of any kind. Not an 
appearance of a wall shews itself: but, on coming 
nearer, you find high walls and deep ditches, massy 
gates, and sounding draw-bridges. Valenciennes, 
as is well known, sustained a severe siege early in 
the revolutionary war, and was at length obliged 
to capitulate to the allies. This piece of success, 
however, was followed by sad misfortunes, — and 
the military reputation of the powers then com- 
bined, sulTered a long and melancholy eclipse, from 
whence, however, it has at last gloriously emerged. 
Valenciennes is a very large town, situated in a 
flat, uninteresting, but not unfruitful country. 



U5 

Little other description can be given of any part 
of the long extent of provinces up to Paris. A 
great deal of corn wa% every where on the ground, 
but there was no beauty to admire, either of artful 
ornament, or natural wiiduess. The roads ran in 
tedious straight lines, paved in the middle, and 
neglected at the edges. We rolled on, over the 
pavement, at a dull pace, of about four miles, or four 
miles and a half an hour, and were thirty-four hours 
on our journey, in going a distance of from one 
hundred and twenty to one hundred and thirty 
miles. 

The signs of a conquered, exhausted, divided, and 
wretched nation, were soon very visible. The 
villages through which we passed on the first day, 
"Were more than half empty. Every second house, 
at least, w^as shut up, or left entirely open, — both 
of which states equally proved it to be without in- 
habitants. From most of these wretched broken- 
up tenements, a whitish looking rag was suspended, 
coarsely tied to a stick, poked out of a broken win- 
dow, or the decayed roof. It w as clear, that, amidst 
so much of real necessity and suffering, the refine- 
ments of loyalty were not likely to gain a very 
predominant place in the minds of the peasantry : 
' — these flags, therefore, were to be interpreted for 
what they were, — namely, supplications for mercy 
at the hands of the foreign military who were filling 
all the roads, villages, and towns of unhappy France. 
From the forlorn a{)pearance of the places where 
they were extended, it was very plain that their 
appeal had in many instances been disregarded. 

We frequently saw troops of Prussian cavalry on 
the road : the men carried themselves vvith the 
arrogant air of conquerors, and each detaclnnent 
had at least one ill-fed cow driven along with if, 
two or more sheep, and a supply of poultry hanging 
from the pummels of the saddles. These had aH 

14 



146 

been seized from the farms and cottages about. A 
cart or two accompanied each, driven by French 
peasants, who were pressed into this service. In 
these vehicles a few women belonging to the troop, 
were. seated very much at their ease : — they stared 
at those who passed, quite as fiercely and dissolute- 
ly as the soldiers, who were smoking segars, as 
they swung from side to side in their loose seats, 
with every motion of the horses that carried them. 
The predatory asfject of armed bands of free-boot- 
ers, was represented in a very lively manner among 
these Prussian corps. Their appearance was highly 
picturesque, but suggested very painful reflections. 
It is no light matter to subject the inoffensive inhab- 
itants of a country to the will and call of this sort 
of gentry. The vague, unsubstantial, doubtful, and 
frequently deceptive connexion, that exists be- 
tween the true and felt interests of the people, and 
the measures of their governments which introduce 
these violent instruments to adjust national disputes, 
— forms a strange contrast to the positive, certain, 
and erroneous damage which they sustain, in order 
that their rulers may congratulate them on their 
triumphs, or, at the very worst, on the preservation 
of their honour. Further, the share that the mass 
of a nation may have in any outrage committed by 
its government, is so necessarily small, and gene- 
rally venial through circumstances of delusion and 
misrepresentation, that the mind of the impartial • 
observer, seeing no just proportion between the 
offence and the retribution, where the latter falls 
heaviest, — even in the case of a war that is success- 
ful against those who gave the provocation, — 
becomes lost in indignation and sorrow, in the con- 
templation of human misery, from which those who ' 
are chiefly accountable for it, always chiefly escape. 
We continued, from time to time, to meet or pass 
the broken-up remnants of French battalions. Small 



147 

parties of young men, in worn-out regimentals, re- 
taining generally their swords, which they carried 
across their shoulders to support their bundles, were 
seen proceeding to their homes, — their warlike 
occupation being over. The French soldier car- 
ries with him, in a very peculiar degree, the look 
and air of military service; — there is also a shrewd 
intelligence in his eye, which is very striking ; 
they in general look like rakes and spendthrifts of 
good family, driven by their indiscretions into the 
ranks. This appearance is to be accounted for 
easily enough. Young men of the most respecta- 
ble classes of society, appear in the French army 
as' privates, and there soon acquire the most tho- 
rough contempt for all that is good in principle and 
practice, become initiated into the foulest contri- 
vances of wickedness, familiarized to cruelty, and 
bent on rapine. This process was continually at 
work on the greater proportion of the youth of 
France, under Buonaparte : and its contagion was 
disseminated through the whole by companionship. 
But, in fact, there is no tinding a young man in 
France who has not been in the army in some ca- 
pacity or other, — and the effects of this system on 
the morals and intellect of the country, are hideous. 
There has grown up under it a thoroughly depraved 
generation, — a generation that has neither know- 
ledge of, nor feeling for. the qualities of virtue, mode- 
ration, truth, or justice, — that has been trained to 
set its glory in what ought to be thought its shame. 
This generation, most unfortunately, has not only 
been educated to evil, but is, in a great measure, 
incapacitated from turning to good. The soldier, 
disbanded by the King, returned to his friends the 
most helpless and destitute creature perhaj)s in ex- 
istence :— certainly not the less pitiable for being 
filled with rancour, wrath, and all bad passions. 
When he should have acquired what would have 



148 

enabled him to become an independent and a useful 
member of society, he was dragged away, a mere 
boy, and chained to the car of the imperial Moloch. 
Here his tastes were perverted to the abominations 
and degradations of liis condition : his hopes were 
inseparably connected with the success of crime, 
the diffusion of slaughter, and the unbridled exer*- 
eise of robbery ; his feelings, in short, were poison- 
ed in all their sources, — and when thus rendered 
completely fit for his master, he might be considered 
in a state of almost hopeless reprobation. This 
was the sort of the beings that I saw scattered over 
the roads of France ; — despairing because there was 
joy for mankind, mourning because there was 
peace, wretched and cast down, because there was 
deliverance. Returning to the homes of relations, 
they seemed calculated to do much mischief,-irand 
they threw confusion and doubt on every train of 
events which the fancy might have imagined for 
securing the blessings of tranquillity, by introducing 
settled dispositions and habits, and safer and truer 
Tiews of interest and honour, into France. One of 
tliese young men got up in the front of our diligence, 
where 1 happened to be at that time seated. A 
beggar-child, from one of the swarms that are posted 
on the roads of France to assail the traveller, ran 
along by its side, screaming Vive le Roi, as a claim 
on our charity. " Sacre Dieu^^^ said the soldier, — 
'* you'll get nothing from me by that cry." Vive 
V Empereur^ shouted the child : — " ah, you are like 
the others," muttered my companion between his 
teeth, — " but there is a sous for you." — There was 
genuine character in this, and so far it was touch- 
ing : there evidently were impulses about this per- 
son that might have been improved to excellent 
purposes. He told me he had not been in the bat- 
tle of Waterloo, but he was in the neighbourhood, 
and had to retreat with the rest. The French 



149 

army would certainly have gained the victory but 
for treachery : this he considered as so indubitable 
that it never entered into his imagination that I 
could differ from him. I preferred listening to him 
to disputing with him, and he amused me very 
much. As a reward for my silence, which he ac- 
cepted for assent, — he touched my shoulder, and 
said in a kind tone, — " But the English ctm^e very 
brave, iiotwiihstanding.'''' 

Every French town through which we passed 
"was occupied by either British or Prussian troops. 
Perrone is called ihe pucelle, because it had nevei? 
been violated by an enemy; but her immaculacy 
is now more than questionable. The diligence 
stopped for supper in this town, — and, as we had 
to wait for horses, I set cut, between twelve and 
one in the morning, to walk in the dark through 
some of the streets. They w^ere generally very 
narrow ; the houses seemed ancient, with their ends 
chiefly to the street, and the whole, as far as I could 
judge, w^ore a peculiarly foreign aspect. When ex- 
ploring my way round some stone steps, that bulged 
from the wall rather dangerously, I observed a m?iss 
of something lying on the ground, and only just 
observed it in time to prevent my stepping upon it. 
Looking more cl(!se!y, I saw things that glittered 
like arms, and rather started back when I fairly 
made out a dozen miiskels. I soon found that they, 
were men Avho were thus thrown upon the bare 
stones, and the free motion of drapery in the wind 
of the night told me that they were Highlanders, 
I was astonished, but used a privilege which I 
thought I possessed, and awakened one of the men. 
He was a stout, shortish, com;)actly-made felloWj 
who got upon his legs wit!)out any discomposure, 
or haste of manner, appearing rather to wait my 
commands than to won<ler why he had been dis= 
turbed. I told him that, as a countrvmao, accident- 

14* 



150 

ally passing, I could not resist the desire of incfuiring 
how he and his companions came to have such un- 
comfortable beds ; — and I asked him if it was not 
usual to receive biilets on the inhabitants for quar^ 
ters? 

" Na, Sir," was his composed reply — " we sel- 
dom trouble them for billets. They ca' this bivu' 
acking, you see." 

" It does not seem very pleasant, whatever they 
may call it.—- How do the people of the country 
treat you ?" 

*' Ow ! gailies : particularly we that are Scbtch : 
we ha' but to show our pttticoat^ as the English ca* 
it, — an' we're ay weel respected." 

" Were you in the battle of Waterloo ?" 
" Aye, 'deed was I, — and in Quatre-bras besidesr 
I got a skelp wi' a bit o' a shell at Waterloo." 

*' And were all your companions, who are asleep 
there, also wounded ?" 

"Aye ware they, — some mare, some less. 
Here's ane o' 'era wakening, you se€, wi' our 
specking." 

A robust soldier rose slowly from his hard rest- 
ing-couch, shrugging his shoulders and stretching 
his joints, as if his bones ached. He said not a 
word on seeing a stranger, but deliberately placed 
himself by the side of my first acquaintance. I 
continued the conversation for some, time, and 
heard with interest the particulars of the death of a 
brave officer, for whose fate I had been much con- 
cerned, in consequence of knowing his closest 
connexions. This lamented person belonged to 
the regiment in which these men were privates ; 
they said he was the first who fell in their raid^s 
on the 16th, — and, in two or three homely words^j 
,g:ave me proof how much he had been esteemed* 



151 

The Scotchmen, having but small seduction to 
return to their beds, became quite inciiued to tallc^ 
—particularly when they learned from what part 
of the land o' cakes " I cam' frae." 

" The Duke," they said, " was'na to be blamed 
as^ a General at a'; nor wou'd the men ha'e ony 
cause to complain, if he wou'd but gi' them a little 
mare liberty." 

" Liberty ? — What sort of liberty do you mean ?'* 

" Ow, — -just liberty ^—freedom, you see !" 

" What, — do you mean leave of absence, — fur- 
loughs ?" 

" Na, na ! De'il a bit : God, this has'na been a 
time for furloughs. I mean the liberty that ither 
sogers get; — the Prussians and them." 

As I still professed ignorance of their meaning, 
one of them gave me, in a sudden burst, a very 
pithy explanation of the sort of liberty which the 
Duke \vas blamed for withholding. The other 
qualified it a little, by saying : " Aye, aye, he 
means that whan we've got the upper han' we, 
shu'd employ it. There's nae use in our being 
mealy-mou'd, if the ithers are to tak' what they 

like. The d d Prussians ken better what 

they're about." 

" Well, but you find that the Prussians are every 
where detested, — and you have just now told me 
that you Highlanders are every where respected." 

" Ow, aye, we're praised enuch. Ilka body prais- 
es us, but very few gie us ony thing." 

More readily interpreting this hint than the last, 
I proved myself an exception to the general rule, 
by putting into their hands a franc or two to drink. 

The one who received the money looked at it 
very deliberately, and then, raising his head, said, 
** Weel, sir, we certainly did'na expect this — did 
we, John ?" 



152 

*^Eli, na," echoed Joha: "the gentleman has 
our thanks, Vm sure." 

I inquired if the Duke of Wellington took severe 
means of enforcing on his army that regard for the 
lives and property of the inhabitants of the seat of 
war, in maintaining which he has evidently placed 
the pride of hi& ambition, not less tlian in beating 
his armed adversaries ? 

" Na, sir, no here," — was the reply, — " for the 
men ken him gailies now. But, in Spain we aften 
had ugly jobs. He hung fifteen men in ae day, 
there, — after he had been ordering about it, God 
knows how lang. And d — n me if he did'na ance 
gar the Provost Marshal flog mare than a djzen of 
the wimen — for the Avimen thooglit themselves 
safe, and so they were war' than the men. They 
got sax and therty lashes a piece on the bare doup, 
and it was lang afore it was forgotten on 'em. Ane 
o' 'em was Meg Donaldson, the best woman in our 
regiment, — for whatever she might tak', she did na 
keep it a' to hersel'." 

The noise of the horses, brought out to be har- 
nessed to the diligence, made me take a hasty 
leave of these Scotch soldiers. 

From Peronne to Paris, the devastations com- 
mitted by the armies had every where left more 
terrible traces. The fields on each side of the 
road were trampled down ; dead horses were lying 
about, — and the carcases of animals, and the litter 
of forage, shewed that the waste of the troops on a 
march of this nature must be almost equal to their 
recessary consumption. The diligence rolled 
through village after village, all deserted by the 
great majority of their inhabitants : not a house 
had a door or a window left, — yet there were no 
marks of fighting; all this destruction had been pc^ 
Casioned by the mere passage of the armies. The 



153 

chateaus near the road were wretchedly dismantled 
and defaced : over their gardens, straw, garbage, 
burnt wood, &c. were scattered, and all wore a 
look of melancholy strange derangement. The 
features of all the scenes, and of every person, 
spoke of a great publick calamity ; it so surpassed 
in the magnitude of its effects, and the singularity 
of its operation, any of the common accidents of 
nature, that the spectator, unaccustomed to a thea- 
tre of war, felt as if he was placed amidst the vesti- 
ges of some fearful infliction from above, like those 
which fell on guilty lands of old. 

At the door of an inn I saw an old man standing, 
and asked of him where the baskets of peaches 
were, which used to be handed to the travellers, 
at this season of the year, on the French roads ? 
" We are without bread now, Sir," said he, — " if 
we had that, we should be contented to lose ouc 
peaches. The troops have taken every thing 
from us." " Was it the allied troops," 1 inquired ? 
— " The French army on their retreat behaved 
worse than the allies, — but the Prussians have been 
bad enough. Your countrymen. Sir, are the best 
— but soldiers must eat." He said the poor in- 
habitants of the villages were in a situation of 
misery that was not to be conceived. Having oc- 
casion, in my conversation with him, to allude to 
the publick posts on the road, he used the words 
paste imperiale. "It is the paste ray ale now," said 
I. — " Yes, Sir, imperial to day and royal to-mor- 
row." 

Arriving, at last, within a few miles of Paris, 
my French feiiow-travellers were amused with the 
appearance of a lusty, steady-looking British offi- 
cer, in a drab shooting jacket, squatted on a dum- 
pey poney, — with his double barrelled fowling 
piece in his hand. Two others were on footj 



154 

beating over the trampled fields with dogs. The 
party, certainly, had a singularly English charac- 
ter, and was mightily tittered at by a very pretty 
French woman, who had been performing an admi- 
rable farce, all the way from Valenciennes, with 
her little mademoiselle, — a child of seven, — who 
was fractious, funny, tired, romping, sleeping, 
laughing, eating, and crying, all together, — or at 
least with a quickness in the variations that blend- 
ed the whole into one indescribable effect. 



155 



CHAPTER IX. 

We arrived at the barrier of Paris. An ori- 
ginal imuression is always peculiarly strons^, and 
there is a high degree of excitement occasioned by 
the first view of any great object, (hat has been long 
and actively employing the imagination, which, 
having once subsided, cannot be again kindled. 
In the account which I have given of my " Visit to 
Paris in 1814," I have endeavoured to convey to 
the reader's mind, something of that anxious, dis- 
turbed feeling of curiosity and wonder, rendered 
gloomy and feverish by recollection, which attend- 
ed passing the barrier of this strange capital for the 
first time. It is in these excitements that the 
great enjoyment of travelling consists, — but the 
charm can be felt but once in regard to one place, 
— -and the thoughts, on a second encounter, do not 
keep up their originally close and brisk attendance 
on every operation of the senses of hearing and of 
the sight. — It does not follow from this, that 
the earliest impression is the least correct : — it is 
the first taste of ardent S:)irits that gives the traest 
and most salutary conviction of their properties. 

The heavy frowning entrance of Paris, its jeal- 
ous douaniers at the barriers, and its introduction 
to the most splendid and famous fruits of luxury, 
genius, and learning, — mingled with the grossest 
indications of profligacy and the memorials of hi- 
deous crimes and terrible reverses, — had sutfered 
no change, — but they had in some measure ex- 
hausted their influence on me. Many cireumstan- 
ces of importance, however, had changed, — and 
the alteration gave novel features to the approach to 
that city on the occasion of my revisiting it, w hich 



156 

were of a striking cast. In the autumn of 1814, 
when I first saw Paris, — France had come well, 
and it might even be said proudly, out of another 
great revolution,— and, if defeated, had still to 
boast that the terms of the peace were undeniable 
proofs that her adversaries considered it advisable 
to treat her with respect. Paris bad then lost no 
solace of its vanity ; she retained what was always 
enough to constitute her, in one resj>ect,the capital of 
the world, — for the treasures of art and science, the 
common objects of the desires and wants, and the ac- 
knowledged ornaments of the intellectual and retined 
community of the world, were in ht^r keeping. In 
possessing these she also possessed what most pam- 
pered the prideof even hervulgftr- — and what furnish- 
ed her with a ready answer to any taunting allusion to 
the reverses which her arms had sustained. In fact, 
she and her enemies had parted with at least all the 
external signs of civility, and a mutually good un- 
derstanding, — and she had reason to hug herself on 
her bargain. A government had been destroyed 
— but that was a trifle, for the senate had pronounc- 
ed the forfeiture of Buonaparte : — some of the 
eagles had been effaced, but the lily was a pretty 
flower, and Vive Henri Qjuatre an inspiring air.— If 
Napoieoi:. was in Elba the Apollo was in the 
Louvre, — and, the Allies having politely declined 
all contributions and seizures, — there were no visi- 
ble or palpable signs of the humiliation of France 
that could be intelligible to a Frenchman's sensi- 
bility. She had, therefore, only to pocket the 
money brought over by her British visitors, — to 
caricature them in the print-shop,s, — and exercise 
h«r ingenuity and industry, both of which qualities 
she possesses most eminently, in rivalling the manu- 
factures of her most formidable rival — the nation 
against \Thich she entertains the deepest grudge. 



157 

This was the state of things at the time I have 
mentioned, but their face had entirely altered, and 
plain indications were given on the road to Paris, 
and at its entrance, that the visitor in 1815, would 
find it placed in circumstances very different from 
those which it held in the preceding year. The 
time for the real humiliation and severe punish- 
ment of the nation had now arrived; there was no 
longjer a disposition to save it from drinking out the 
bitter contents of the cup of defeat ; — in short, 
Paris, as representing France, was now in the con- 
dition of one that is beaten anti bound, previously 
to being mulcted in a heavy forfeiture. A period 
was about to be put to the days of its finery and 
its attractions; anu whatever good fortune might 
in future await it, could only be contemplated 
through a long and painful course of exertion, 
divested of noise, of brilliancy, — of all beloved 
eclat. 

A Scotch and a Prussian soldier stood guard in 
company at the barrier St. Denis. The sight of a 
red coat in such a situation could not tail to strike 
a visitor from England very forcibly. The French 
lady in the diligence pointed to the Scotchman, 
who was in the Highland costume, and, looking at 
me, exclaimed, — "J/i, que c'est (IroUr Going 
along the rue da fauxburg St. Denis^ we saw many 
of the British privates, sauntering with a lazy air 
of enjoyment, — looking at the print-stalls where 
they were caricatured, — cheapening grapes with 
the fruit girls, — or treating themselves to a glass 
of lemonade from the portable supplies of that be- 
verage vvhich abound in the streets of Paris. Ou 
officers, too, swarmed about, mounted, — some well, 
and some very badly, for those who could not 
procure a decent animal, put up with almost any 
creature that had four legs. — Contrasting them- 
selves remarkably with the heavy cabriolets and 

15 



158 

eiumsy dirty coaches, — the awkward calaches and 
grotesque \oitures, — English equipages, complete, 
lig^t, and genteel, glanced rapidly by, — spattering, 
as foreigners, mortification from their wheels on 
the vehicles of the country.— To estimate this ex- 
hibition properly, it is necessary to fancy its coun- 
terpart displayed by Frenchmen in London : — -to 
imagine a French man of fashion, vested with 
magnificent amplitude of box-coat and comman- 
ding longitude of whip, spanking his four blood 
grej^s down Bond-street and St. James's street, or 
drawing smartly up, in a knowing style of driving, 
lo talk over the topicks of the morning with the 
officer of the French Guards, on duty at the Palace 
of the King of England ! 

This superiority of style, equipment, and means 
of every sort, which was so visible in the British 
visitors of all ranks, over the Parisians, — coupled 
with the miliary command which the British held 
over the French capita!, — constituted a grand and 
touching spectacle, as the consummation of a long 
series of national struggles, predictions, reverses, 
and trials, which had agitated the minds, disturbed 
the conditions, and put to the proof the institutions 
of mankind, throughout what must be regarded as 
the most considerable portion of the globe, in con- 
sequence of its influence on all the rest. 

I found Paris in a state of very discomposed 
feeling and opinion. Every Frenchman seemed 
acutel}^ alive to the calamity that had fallen upon 
France, — and all diversities of political sentiment 
met in one point of union, — namely, that of indig- 
nation ag^urist those who acted as the conquerors 
of the country. A Koyalist would say, — " Ah, 
it is very impolitick behaviour in the Allies, to 
think of taking any territory or money from 
France, for good Frenchmen, united under the 
BourbQps, will become more formidable than the 



159 

nation ever was under Buonaparte,--and wo to 
Europe, in the course of a year or two, for what 
she now inflicts upon us." A military man would 
gar2;!e a sacre out of his throat, and anticipate the 
day^ of revenge, under some new leader, when 
France would shew that she never had been beat- 
en, although she had been betrayed. Of nothing 
like a deep settled sense of fact, and its deductions, 
do this people seem capable; they are always 
upon the shift, the escape, or the contrivance,— 
and in one or other of these they alw^iys have 
occupation and consolation, no matter how far on 
one side of the real lesson, the proper duty, or 
the rational hope. Then, again, the course of 
their feeling ever runs in zig-zags, — it turns sharp 
about, forming the acutest angles, and in all sorts 
of directions, — only consistent in its rapidity. 
Going up to the fete at Saint Cloud, in one of the 
boats which, on that occasion of popular festivity, 
plj^ on the Seine, betwixt that place and Paris, — 
1 overheard a conversation going on among some 
Parisian young men, at one end of the boat, ap- 
parently mechanicks, or, at least, in that class of 
society :~they were talking of the excesses said 
to have been committed by the Prussians. — " Two 
nights ago they burnt a farm-house at Versailles," 
said one : 

" Ah,- — h -." was the reply. 

" Then, at Bleudon, they took a bed from be^ 
low a poor woman of the village, and stole her 
poultry.'' 

''Ah diable!'" 

" A party of these brigands made a travelling 
marchand exchange horses with them — giving 
him a poor broken down devil for his excellent 
little Norman :" 

^' Sacristie i" 



" Not a silver spoon or fork can be kept for 
them hi all the country." 

'' Peste:' 

" But all this is nothing to what we did in 
Prussia." 

*' Jh, non, — vraiment r 

" It is all very natural that they should treat 
«s so." 

" Ah, Old, vraiinent.''^ 

" But France will revenge herself." 

*' Avec raison /" 

" The Emperour has behaved but badly." 

*' Ma foi, ouV 

" He lost his head." 

" Smis dotde.*^ 

^' And never had much heart." 

" Ah, diable, non /" 

" But he was all for France. 

« Et la gicrie .'" 

The dialogue finished Avith a spirited repetitioia 
Qf peste, diable, sacre, &c. &c. 

This excursion to Saint Cloud may be more 
particularly mentioned here, as it will help to il- 
lustrate our present subject, which is the appear- 
ance of Paris and its neighbourhood in the hands 
of the Allies. 

The towns of France have all their particular 
fete days, on which are celebrated popular enter- 
tainments very similar to the pleasure fairs in En- 
gland. That at Saint Cloud, which is held on 
three successive Sundays, forms a great attraction 
\QT the Parisians, on account of the moderate dis- 
tance, — not more than five miles,~and the delight- 
ful nature of the place where the festivities go 
forward. The grounds about the royal chateau of 
Saint Cloud are particularly beautiful ; and the 
Seine winds here a very noble stream through an 
exquisite valley compressed between picturesque 



moimtains. The situation altogether is as roman- 
tickally lovely as can be imagined, antl tlj'^ iast 
sovereigns of France spared no expense in forming 
those magnificent gardens, grand ^valks, fanciful 
cascades, and regular basins and canals, which are 
so consonant to the French taste in all the fine 
arts. The peculiar charms of Saint Cloud, howev- 
er, to most of its English visitors, are to be found 
in the plantations that adorn its hills, in its rich 
views of a wildly ornamented country, and its 
display of Paris in the distance, supporting its 
towers and white stony projections, and flaunting 
the golden dome of the Invalids in the face of 
the sky. The view from the observatory is one 
of the finest that can any where be seen. 

Alo|ig the river side there is a superb gravel 
walk, and near this a grand cascade : it is here 
that the bustling pleasures of the fete are collect- 
ed ; the jets here play their frisking tricks, — the 
lions vomit torrents, — and the cascade thunders^ 
down an inclined plane, at the enormous rate of 
several pail-fulls a second. Lines of painted 
booths for refreshment, are permitted to stand al- 
ways in these royal gardens, — and on this occasion 
they are all opened. Marionettes, or puppets, go 
through the most nauseous operations, and indecent 
evolutions, for the amusement of the male and fe- 
male spectators that crowd to their performances ; 
and rival fire-eaters, conjurors, dancing dogs, and 
sagacious monkeys, make a din of invitation, and 
occasion a corresponding pressing forward to enjoy- 
ment, that, with their various concomitants of danc- 
ing under the trees, and riding at the ring, &:c. 
constitute altogether a display of the levity of pub- 
lick pleasure, that, in this characteristick, goes far 
beyond any similar scene in Great Britain. But 
the finest sight connected writh these exhibitions, 
Tvaa the view of the whole, from a small distance. 
15* 



162 

on the other side of the bridge, after the darkness of 
the ni8;ht had fallen. The few lights then scat- 
tered among the groves on the sides of the hills, — - 
the l^urnished lines formed by the (amps, running 
along the edge of the water, — the indistinct flighty 
appearances of the women's dresses, the motion of 
the.dancing parties among the trees, — and the re- 
flection of the whole in the deep clear mirrour of the 
river, where it was mingled with the quiet stars 
and |he streaming milky way 5^ — had an amazingly 
fine effect. 

But it was not merely to describe the fete at 
Saint Cloud, that it has been noticed in these pa- 
ges. Its introduction here is owing to the striking 
proof afforded, in one of the circumstances attend- 
ing it, of the military subjugation, and national 
carelessness of the people. They poured in joyous 
floods along the bridge, the centre arch of which 
had been blown up by Davoust a few weeks before, 
in order to check the progress of the Prussians on 
their capital. The chasm, however, had beeiL 
temporarily supplied with boards for the fete, and 
io all was well. After leaving this vestige of the 
war, the crowd was received by a strong detach- 
ment of our English horse guards. These soldiers 
sat sedately on their noble horses, looking down 
upon the motley procession, which abated none of 
its usual numbers, or usual gayety, for so trifling a 
reason as that the publick merriment was placed 
trader the superintendance of foreign conquerors. 
At the gate of the garden, British dragoons again 
took cognizance of the French revellers ; and in 
the paths, into which no native was admitted on 
horseback, the officers of the horse guards rode as 
they ple?.sed up and down. Every now and then, 
the eye was caught away from a French grim cier, 
with his farcical wig and spectacles, ^y the moving 
forms of these portly soldiers, guiding their larg€; 



U3 

horses through the laughing crowd, and among the 
fine trees. No one, however, seemed to look upon 
them as intruders, — at least their presence neither 
interrupted the proceedings, nor clouded the faces 
of any present. A great variety of foreign milita- 
ry, and strangers from all quarters, walked in the 
gardens of Saint Cloud on this occasion, — and a 
concourse of this kind, under such circumstances, 
was as interesting in character as it was picturesque 
in appearance. The residence of Saint Cloud was 
a great favourite with Buonaparte; — ^it would have 
startled him a little, if some morning dream had 
dis|5layed to him the figure which his admired gar- 
dens cut on the day in question, — in the absolute 
possession of British dragoons, and his subjects only 
admitted to hold their holiday there under the eye 
of a colonel of the English horse guards \ Such a 
vision would have struck him with " a strange 
fear," even although it had been followed in the 
course of the morning by one of St. Jean D'Ange- 
ley's reports in the name of the senate, — holding 
destiny perforce to the destruction of " the island- 
ers," and speaking for providence the election of 
Napoleon to he its instrument. It is in the retros- 
pect to these cold, tav/dry, enormities, that the ul- 
timate result appears most valuaMe and refreshing, 
— for it then seems the triumph of nature and truth 
over quackery, shallow cunning, and a cant that 
addressed all the world as dupes or as victims. 

Going round, late in the evening, by one of the 
more unfrequented walks, running through the 
woods of Saint Cloud, I came suddenly upon a 
strong column of British infimtry, posted in silence 
and order amongst the trees, on the hill immediate- 
ly above the amusements, that jingled upon the 
ear from below. The regiment was in complete 
©rder for action : the officers were all at their posts ; 
and, as I passed by them ia the deep shadow,. I 



164 

heard not a word, or even a breath, though I was 
close to five or six hundred men. 

The whole of the road from Saint Cloud to Paris> 
was patrolled by piquets of British ^ and Prussian 
troops, — and the barrier on this side of the town, 
like that by which I arrived, was in the possession 
of the former. 

Equally striking were the features of military 
occupation and ^mastery in all the publick situa- 
tions of Paris. At the bridges strong detachments 
were posted, and at that which faces the royal 
palace, a cannon was kept always loaded, with a 
lighted match in readiness. There are guard- 
houses in most of the principal streets of that capi- 
tal, and these were all filled with either British or 
Prussians : at the doors of the great hotels, centi- 
nels in foreign uniforms were generally placed, for 
in most of them there were one or more persons of 
distinction attached to the staff or the councils of 
the allied sovereigns in Paris. The latter were 
seldom seen but at reviews, for they did not now, 
as at a former time, go about to publick places to 
scrape acquaintance with the Parisians and keep 
them in good spirits. The aspect of the alliance, 
as it was now settled on the inhabitants of Paris, 
was clouded and severe ; and a very considerable 
degree of reserve was maintained by the represen- 
tatives of the various powers. Even the court of 
the Thuilleries was not frequently visited by them: 
there were few^ or no courtly entertainments and 
ceremonies :— however friendly the allied sove- 
reigns might feel towards Louis personally, their 
determination to make France know that the con- 
sequences of war are sometimes serious, occasioned 
a sense of restraint, and an appearance of coolness^ 
as between them and the royal family of the Bour- 
bon&. 



165 

For some time after my arrival from Brussels, 
British and Prussian sentries were placed on the 
very palace of the Thuilleries, but they were at 
last removed from this post, and the gates were left 
to the French national guard. At all the other 
publick buildings, however, the allies continued to 
keep up the outward formal signs of their occupation 
of the French capital, — although one national guard 
was in some situations permitted to stand along with 
the foreigners. This was the case at the Palais 
Royal, by the entrance of which a strong foreign 
guard was always on duty, with loaded cannon, 
centinels posted, and muskets piled. It was here, 
however, that the French, probably, had their best 
revenge, — for the interiour of this extraordinary 
place, the character and nature of which I have 
fuily^ described in a previous work, was thronged 
with the conquerors of France, who did not enter 
it safely, or leave it without sustaining injury. 

All the remarkable features of the Palais Royal 
were now aggravated. The numerous passages 
leading into it were choked with a living stream of 
all nations, ages, ranks, costumes, and physiogno* 
mies, driven as if by some irresistible impalse, 
towards its fatal vortex. The toils of service, the 
animation of victory, the carelessness of the military 
character, and the simplicity of young men, more 
fraught with confidence than with experience, all 
assisted to provide the Palais Royal with a glut of 
prey. The Prussians seemed to live in it : many 
of the officers of this nation were but fine boys, and 
the same may be said of the Russians : — these 
youths, with their flayen hair, round caps, tightly 
tapered waists, bending gait, and me^isured step, 
were seen morning, noon, and night, smoking in the 
rotunda, or regaling in the cafes, or furnishing them- 
selves with jewellery in the shops, or in the hands 



166 

of yet more mischievous dealers under the piazzag, 
—carrying themselves with a swagger, and looking 
out in the pride of supreme attainment, while, in . 
fact, they were scorching themselves bare in the 
brilliancy with which they were delighted. The 
spectacle, however, was tine and interesting as a 
matter of observation : — four or five of the Austrian 
"waggon cor|>s, — whose dress is about that which one 
fancies for the robber Moor, — hanging linked to- 
gether, would breast as many Cossacks of the impe- 
rial Russian guard, in their wide trowsers and high 
narrow caps : — close behind these a single highlan- 
der would be walking steadily along, with a hard- 
featured woman his wife in his arm, — both drinking 
in, with inflexible gravity, the sights around them. 
The fashionable lounge, and bold stare of Bond- 
street, were to be recognized in the carriage of 
the young men of our hussar regiments : the slow 
heavy step of the horse-guards-men, quietly bespoke 
for itself a pretty free passage, which the quick 
Prussian, nodding his lofty feather, forced without 
much ceremony. A veteran of Buonaparte's impe- 
rial guard, or a tall cuirassier, was generally at no 
great distance, bearing himself fiercely in angry 
silence, to make out the picture, and give to it the 
strongest of its interests. 

The gambling-houses were crowded night and 
day, and the British officers were much too close in 
their attendance. Those of the Palais Royal, how- 
ever, were not found the most dangerous. There 
are in Paris establishments which unite almost 
every deleterious influence that can be imagined. A 
man of title, — a nobleman, — is found — whose gross 
debaucheries have left him almost as destitute of 
means ms of character. A government institution, 
belonging to the police, y^rovides him with the fur- 
nishing out of a splendid hotel, — and Madame, the 



167 

Marchioness, presides at its table, which is covered 
with the choicest wines aud viands, and to which 
strangers and Frenehmea are invited, who are re- 
ceived as esteemed guests. There is no sign of 
purpose or of expectation : you adjourn to the play- 
tables after dinner, — but there is no compulsion, — 
you may pl^y or not as you please. The contri- 
vers of this scheme, however, know what they are 
about. Their parties always include a number of 
fascinating women — and these well understand the 
capacity in which they are to exert themselves. A 
small venture can scarcely be refused to the request 
of a pretty woman — besides, the chamitaign has 
been fouDfi excellent, and the conversation is not 
less sparkling. It is, however, thoroughly amiable ; 
there is nothing to offend and all to allure. Poli- 
ticks are handled en badinage ; a forged report is 
communicated en conjiaiice ; the adventurer, who 
skulks at night in a garret, sits with the German 
count or the English lord — and not a grace is vio- 
lated, thoogh you are surrounded with every mode 
and caprice of vice, — by individuals whose practi- 
ces in profligacy reach to the utmost extent of de- 
praved ingenuity, — by the devices of a deep and foul 
system of seduction, — by all that is most loathsome 
as well as fatal to purity of heart, and what would 
shock, were it clearly seen, any spirit in which 
honesty and m inliness survived dissipation. 

The Palais Royal had, as usual, distinguished 
itself during the agitation of the last revolution, 
caused by Buonaparte's return. The ladies and 
gentlemen of its purlieus were all for the Emperour, 
and its interiour was the spot where his cause was 
most energetically supported. The Cafe Monian- 
sicr, which, as I have said elsewhere, is the rendez- 
vous of the worst of men and women, became the 
favourite and principal point of assembly for his par- 
tisans. Here a tribune was erected as in the times 



168 



of the revolution, — and male and female orators 
made the place echo with vive V Empereur^ et la lib- 
erie! Buonaparte was rather annoyed when he 
was told of this, and still more so when he henrd 
that a murderer, when on the scaffold, had hawled out 
*' Live the Emperour ! No Bourbons I No Priests /" 

The Palais Roj^al was the scene of almost all 
the quarrels that occurred between the French 
military and the Allies. These squabbles seidom 
happened between the British and the French, — 
but the disputes and disturbances between the lat- 
ter and the Prussians were endless. The truth, I 
believe, was, that the French were characteristic- 
ally arrogant, and that the Prussians did not un- 
derstand how to repress their insolence in a dig- 
nified, prompt, and eftectual manner. If a Prr.s- 
sian and BVenchman trod u|>on each other's -toes, 
and had high words in consequence, the drum was 
ordered to beat out the guard, and a party took 
possession of the Palais Royal, where they con- 
tented themselves with bivouacking all night. 
This they were very free to do as often as they 
took the fancy, for any thing that the French, who 
went home to their beds, cared. The stories of 
cons!)iracies, explosions, and ■ reactions at Pan's, 
which were circulated in London about this time, 
had no more formidable foundation than these petty 
quarrels, that originated in no design, and came to 
no conclusion; — but these furnished suhjects for 
the t'jlk of the evening in the saloons where the 
corresrondents of the English newspapers picked 
up their intelligence, — and the competition that 
necessfirily existed among these gentlemen, as to 
which should furnish for his particular journal the 
most siriking coramunicstion, was nothing, and 
could naturally be nothiag, but a struggle in exag- 
geration. Any one who should now refer to the 



160 



^ 



contents of the private letters published in t}>e 
Daily Press, to guide the opinions of the pubiick 
of Britain as to the state of things in France, 
would find them a miserable mass of inconsistent 
falsehoods, in almost every particular disagreeing 
with each other, and scarcely ever, even by acci- 
dent, corroborated by facts. At the time Vvhich I 
am now describing, there was no such thing as 
procuring even intentionally true statements from 
Frenchmen, — and if one could have been sure of 
their intentional honesty, their ignorance, ia nine 
cases out of ten, would have been no less sure. 
Finesse, imposition, and trick, are the political 
weapons which the parties in France think it most 
advisable to wield, — and this only indicates that 
they are, as to politicks, in a state of very imper- 
fect information, and clumsy practice. Men are 
always cunning until th-ey become wise : — the 
Chinese merchant cheats, and he of Lloyd's is 
honourable in his dealings : — the difference is to 
be accounted for, rather by the superiour com- 
mercial skill and intelligence of the latter, than by 

any intrinsick su[)eriority of his moral sense. 

The writers for the English journals were eagerly 
laid hold of by the politicians of France, ladies 
and gentlemen : — according to the views of the 
mistress or master, the conversation of the evening 
assembly was framed ;— the pun was ready where 
the argument was deficient ; — the copy of verses 
clenched the doctrine, — and a lively story, vouched 
for, by a fair partisan, — who, while she delivered 
it, looked the most convincing logick at the English 
visitor, — put contradiction oat of the question, and 
did not leave recollection enough for doubt. Thus 
charged home, the simple correspondent returned 
to his hotel, and gravely embodied in a letter, as 
authentick iulelligence of the French capital, de- 

16 



rived from peculiarly respectable sources, the wild 
lies of a heartless set of French impostors. This, 
in due course of time, was received and published 
bj the editor of some daily oracle,-— and then it 
became the text for political debaters : — the flimsy 
French fabrication was taken hold of, and ex- 
amined, and tried, and searched, after the thorough 
manner of our country, but in a way that it was 
never meant to bear by its ingenious manufacturers. 
They would think it as reasonable to make a great 
coat of French gauze, as to turn a serious essay on 
one of their own stories. The only thing in these 
proceedings creditable to England is, the respect 
paid to her press in the very attempts made to 
deceive it. This is certainly worth notice. A 
minister of the King of France lately said, that the 
'grfrttest importance was attached abroad to the 
articles that appeared in the London news-papers; 
the same feeling, it is pretty well known, has been 
expressed by some of the highest individuals of 
niore than one continental state, — and a singular 
proof was given by Buonaparte, in the cuurse of 
his last short reign, of the distinguished considera- 
tion in which he held the editor of a certain morn- 
ing journal, belonging to the British metropolis. A 
gentleman who described himself as a colaborateur 
in this print, was waited upon by order of Bertrand, 
pressed to appear at the imperial court, — and was 
received by Madame Bertrand in the most grace- 
ful and gracious style. 

The Parisians, however, were able to derive 
some spectacles and gayeties from the military 
occupation of their city, and so far it was very 
pleasant. A fine band played every evening at 
the door of the hotel on the boulevard, where the 
Empf rour of Austria had his quarters, — and a crowd 
of fashionables used to collect to enjoy the noble 



in 

pieces of German martial musick which they per,- 
formed. A little farther down was the proraeuade 
of Coblentz, as it was called: — this crowding 
together of a mob of ladies and gentlemen, to press 
and incommode each other on a small space of th6 
boulevard, when they might walk with ease by 
availing themselves of a little more of its fine 
shaded length, can only be explained by terming 
it a freak of fashion, which is sufficient to explain 
any thing. The foreign military brought some 
attractions to this place of resoK for the Parisian 
ladies, and the latter drew the soldiers to the spot 
without fail. The summer air of France is an 
object of enjoyment, valuable beyond description 
to an inhabitant of these islands, who has consti- 
tutional susceptibilities that are unpleasantly affect- 
ed by a humid and inconstant atmosphere. This 
great advantage gives a vivacity and comfort to 
the out-of-door meetings of the French, which in 
England we can have no idea of. The spiriis 
catch a clearness from the heavens, — there is 
a richness in all the feelings corresponding to the 
glow of external nature, — and we are helped to a 
freedom and quickness of thought and observation, 
by the width and salubrity of the scene about lis. 
Rows of chairs were placed under the trees of the 
boulevard, where the beaux and belles would sit 
for hours of these tine evenings, until bonnets and 
feathers were gradually lost in the shadows of 
night. But an evening seat in the garden of the 
Thuilleries combined the greatest number of genu- 
inebeauties. The scenery of Paris, as well as its 
various other characteristicks, 1 have described to 
the best of my ability in the account of my first 
visit to that interesting capital,' — and I frequently 
jpefer to what has been done in th .t publication, 
that I may not be accused of neglect in this. My 



172 

business on this occasion is with the t^iporary, 
but important events of which it became the 
theatre. Yet I cannot avoid noticing inciden- 
tally, the extreme beauty of the views of Paris, as 
seen in the fine weather ; — its projections of massy 
buildings and single towers, standing in the clear 
blue atmosphere, and connected, in some situations, 
by the dark green of lofty trees, produced very 
sublime effects. But nothing can be imagined 
more grand than the several aspects presented in 
and from the garden of the Thuilleries. One Sun- 
day evening, when the sun was going down behind 
the great gilt dome of the Invalids, I was particu- 
larly struck with the appearances by which I was 
surrounded. The trees massed themselves into a 
fine composition : the water, thrown up in a line 
from the jets in the basins, descended in silvery, 
showers, that twinkled as they were seen scat- 
tering themselves amongst the intervals of the 
bright leaves of the rows of orange trees. The 
foliage partly concealed and partly displayed the 
exquisite forms of the Gods and Goddesses, copied 
in marble from the antique, and presiding over the 
enclosed parterres of flowers. The pubiick build- 
ings of Paris elevated themselves in the neigh- 
bourhood; and, here and there, their fronts were 
disolayed in strong lights, contrasting themselves 
to the vast shadows thrown out by the trees. The 
Champs El^sees, on the other side of the Place of ^ 
Louis XV th shewed themselves as a wood, rising 
to the considerable height of the Barrier de VEtoile^ 
where a piece of architecture crowned the summit. 
— In the middle of the clumps of the garden, there 
were numerous dancing {)arties of the Parisian 
young men and women. The dance is a circular 
one, the dancers joining hands and singing as they 
go round :— the songs were all loyaU — it seemed 



173 

for a moment as if a heart had suddenly got int© 
the people. TThe scene was highly animating and 
even affecting, and it became more so when the 
King appeared abruptly at a window, and presented 
himself to the cheering of the crowds below, re- 
garding them with a mild beneficent expression of 
face. 

I do not mention this last circumstance as a de- 
cisive proof of the loyal disposition of the publick. 
Louis the XVIlIth at that moment looked out 
upon an unchanged nation, who danced as enthu- 
siastically around the heads that were stuck upon 
pikes, and held up in the faces of Louis the XVIth 
and his Queen. He had before his eyes the very 
place where they were beheaded, and which was 
then, as now, surrounded by external magnificence. 
The sans culottes that mutilated and exposed the 
bodies of their murdered, refused to fire at two 
poor Swiss soldiers who had taken refuge behind 
the statues in this very garden. To have injured 
these exquisite pieces of fine art would have been 
barbarous, — so the trembling wretches were pricked 
with pikes, till they were tormented down from 
their place of refuge, and then they were massa- 
cred. What a triumph for art, — what a specimen 
of national refinement ! 

That the French national character has sustain^" 
ed no material alteration since then, is very evi* 
dent; and therefore it would be as idle to say that 
they were affectionate because they seemed so, as 
it would be to say that they had any imagination 
for what is poetically dignified, tender, and impas- 
sioned in sculpture and painting, because they 
form large collections of statues and pictures, and 
have the cant of art for ever in their mouths. But 
there was something very agreeable in the exter- 
nal appearance of publick enthusiasm, excited in 

16* 



' 174 

£avom of a lately returned monarcb, who had suf- 
fered many misfortunes and strange reverses. One 
did not feel inclined to break the spell at the mo- 
ment ; — ^the s{3ectacle had the look of that of a 
father blessing his children, and of children ex- 
pressing their love for a father. It probably could 
not have been got up so prettily in any other coun- 
try ,—for a mask can be made more prominent in 
its features than a real countenance, — and genuine 
emotion is apt to rest on its own consciousness, 
without adopting the strongest means of convinc- 
ing others. — I observed several of the British sol- 
diers in the crowds of these French exhibitors, and 
the national contrast was wonderful. The French 
were all emotion, the British all repose; — the 
French were all challengers of observation, the 
British all bestowers of it ; — the latter were occu- 
pied with others to the length of a perfect abstrac- 
tion from themselves, — the former felt only them- 
selves, in the bustle of addressing those about 
them. ^ A Highlander, whom I watched for some 
time, kept his acute grey eyes immoveably fixed 
on a circle of French dancers ;— the girls skip- 
ped on tiptoe past his steady hardy figure, — 
the young nien threw back their heads, turned 
out their toes, and loudly chaunted Vive Henri 
Qtiatre, and a bas le Buonaparte: he saw and 
heard all with the same equable, fixed, contem- 
plative expression : one would have thought he 
had been listening to a Scotch preacher : — at last, 
by casting his eye accidentally about a quarter of 
an inch from the straight forward line of view 
which he had so long preserved, he caught sight 
of one of his comrades, who had been his very 
counterpart. The instant the mutual recognition 
took place, the same communication was made, in 
perfect independence of each other, by both. A 
loud coarse laugh burst out from each, — united as a 



If5 

volley of musketry, and ending as abruptly. The 
two then linked their arms and went instantly 
away. 

But certainly there were discernible, in the pub- 
lick behaviour, certain signs that it would be very 
difficult to reconcile with ai]y violent feeling 
against the Bourbons. A fierce looking soldier 
stood in the crowd collected below the King's win- 
dow on the Sunday evening : he stood there un^ 
connected with any one else, as the relick of a 
destroyed system. He was heard to utter to him- 
self an execration against the returned family. In 
an instant I saw him assailed with the utmost fury. 
It would be quite ridiculous to speak here of per- 
sons paid by the police; they were evidently self- 
animated wh«> acted in this way. 1 endeavoured 
to notice what descriptions of the people were 
most active : they were those of the bourgeois, — 
such as shoj'keepers and their wives, — the country 
folks who had come from the neighbourhood of 
Paris to enjoy the Sunday, — also all the young 
men who had not military decorations, — and par- 
ticularly the women. The soldier was only saved 
from their rough treatment, which they were car- 
rying to a great length, by the arrival of the na- 
tional guard, who took him off in custody. It is a 
fact, notorious to every one '*'. ho has been in Paris, 
that all the windows of the print shops, and all the 
stalls of the boulevards, were crammed with car- 
ricatures against Buonaparte, and his friends, of the 
most cutting, and often of the most indecent de- 
scription. The invention and execution of these 
might certainly be the work of the police, but if 
the general disposition of Paris was so warmly in 
favour of the cause which these prints traduced, as 
to threaten another national convulsion, would 
their exhibition lead to no paroxysm of popular 



176 

indignation ? Instead of their exciting any expres- 
sion of disafmrohcuion or disgust, they were all day 
surrounded by a[)proving crowds, who seemed to 
take infinite delight in their bitterness. — In the 
theatres, when the air of Five Henri Quatre was 
played, the peals of clapping were as fervent as 
those which were heard in the British play-houses 
when the Allied Monarchs visited them. Thls^ 
probably, may not be so unequivocal an indication 
as the other ; — the composition of the audiences is 
liable to suspicion, — but it would not be easy to 
explain how these assemblies could be packed so 
completely as to produce those lively appearances 
of genuine and general sentiment, if there were a 
deep and extensive real feeling towards the other 
side. It is said, indeed, by some, that the air in 
question is simply a national one, and is not neces- 
sarily connected with the existing government of 
France : but, when it is considered ihat Buona- 
parte prohibited it, that it was never heard in 
France from the expulsion of the Bourbons to their 
return, and was then vehemently sung as the most 
flattering welcome that could be paid to them, it 
must be held disingenuous to represent it as any 
thing else, in the popular estimation at least, than 
a Bourbon hymn. 

The ballad singers, too, would seem to put the 
real political sentiments of the commonalty to the 
test I stopped one night to listen to two men on 
the quays, who were singing a comick description 
of Buonaparte's various flights ; they did it with 
infinite fun and severity. One of them, in par- 
ticular, was an admirable comedian : he frequently 
interrupted his companion, who was going cor- 
rectly on with the regular* words, as if he had 
committed a blunder, and threw in an interpola- 



irr 

tion of his own, adding tenfold to the bitterness of 
the ridicule. The crowd was immense, and was 
most vociferously cordial in its mirth. All t a- 
dividuals present seemed to enter with the greatest 
good will into the satire, — and at any particai>)ly 
sharp point their delight went beyond all bounds. 
The soldiers, on this occasion, seemed as pleased 
as the citizens. I assuredly saw in Paris indica- 
tions which were sufficient to convince me, that., 
with the bulk of its middle classes, Buonaparte 
was not now popular, — and that, notwithstaod 'ig 
certain hankerings after glory, and vague notions 
about the impropriety of priests, they were, never- 
theless, conscious that the government of Louis 
the XVII ith afforded them the best guarantee for 
national prosi)Terity, and publick liberty. It was 
very clear that the Emperour stood much higher 
in the peoples' estimation when he was at Elba,, 
than he did after his return from that Island. They 
attributed his first reverses to accident; they saw 
liim treated with respect by the sovereigns of 
Europe, — retaining his titles, and exercising an 
independent sway in their neighbourhood They 
could still solace themselves with the great 
achievements which he had led France to accom- 
plish : — they had not been visited with enough of 
humiliation to impress them with any fear that 
their fame was not still pre-eminent over their 
misfortunes; — Ihey retained all the publick tro- 
phies, — and were, in the mean while, profitin-i to a 
very great degree by -the peace. Their publick 
means were thriving unprecedentedly, and they 
were thus invited to talk bigly of the past, by the 
satislVictory circumstances in which they found 
themselves left, it will easily be understood how, 
in this frame of tamper and condition, there might 
be a good deal heard of discontented reference to 



ira 

their noisy glories under Buonaparte, without their 
entertaining any serious wish to recur to their 
happy state under that beneficent Prince ! The 
continuance of these grumbling allusions would 
probably have been considerable, for they seemed 
to a Frenchman a sufficient redemption of his own 
and his country's honour, which he could not quite 
conceal from himself, had been rather compromised. 
While he talked in high terms of the Emperour, 
he " fought all his battles o'er again," — and while 
he threw contempt on the peace, he fancied that 
he escaped from the odium of defeat. All this, 
however, was a very dififerent thing from wishing 
the Emperour back, — though, until the trial was 
made, it seemed to indicate such a wish. It cer- 
tainly appeared to me, when I was first in France, 
that there was an unaccountable bias in the popu- 
lar mind towards the imperial sway : — the people, 
in conversation, sunk its atrocities, and dwelt 
fondly on its splendours ; — but, as it turned out, 
this was only conversation. If there be any one 
political fact to be gathered from mingling with 
those classes of the French that are out of the na- 
tural limits of faction, it is, that a startle of alarm 
spread itself over the nation, among all those 
whose interests were reconcileable with a healthy 
state of publick atfairs, v/hen they received the 
news of Buonaparte's last enterprise. As time 
elapsed, the sweets consequent on the royal resto- 
ration, were more and more felt and enjoyed. The 
eleven months of the King's reign were the most 
fortunate that France had known for many years. 
I shall justify this assertion by particular facts : 
the common people at Amiens, who were in a 
starving state under Buonaparte, were in the habit 
of earning three francs a d;)y under the King. On 
the re-appearance of the former from Elba, their 



179 

daily wages instantly fell to seventeen sous, in the 
prospect of the consequences. The manufactures 
of Rouen were ra{)idly thriving under the royal 
government. A wholesale house in Paris, with 
the circumstances of which 1 had opportunities 
of being acquainted, sold to the amount of live 
thousand francs a week, in the months of Jan-i try 
and February 1815, and scarcely disposed of goods 
for ir e hundred a week when JSapoleon replaced 
himseif. The publick finances were quickly dis- 
engaging themselves from all embarrassment ; and 
it is pretty certain that, if Buonaparte's expedition 
had not taken place, the prosperity of France 
would, at this moment, have given England trou- 
ble enough to meet her rivalship. This is so for- 
cibly felt by the French people, that they charge 
us with having turned Buonaparte loose upon ihem^ 
in order to avert the danger to which we saw our- 
selves exposed, by renewing the reign of misery 
and discord amongst ^hem. This, as every one 
knows who has lately been in that country, is the 
obstinate assertion in the mouth of almost every 
Frenchman. 

It is very apparent, in the facts that have occur- 
red, that Buonaparte was not supported by the French 
people ; and there is scarcely a publick man of any 
reputation, vvho has not availed himself of some 
opportunity to state, that he never connected the 
hopes of his country, either as they related to do- 
mestick freedom or foreign respectability, with that 
person's return. They have most of them asserted, 
that, as a matter of comparison, they deemed the 
chances infinitely more in favour of eventual lib- 
erty and prosjjerity, under the Bourboi s, according 
to the constitution ol' ibeir government, than under, 
any administration of the sovereign povver by Buo- 
naparte, But there was an union of persons, strong 



180 

in talent, and faithful in intention, that would glad- 
ly have improved the last revolution, which they 
were far from desiring, so as to have made it the 
occasion of steadfastly settling the form of their 
government on the sound principles of popular 
rights. Louis's act, giving a constitution to the 
French, when he first arrived among them, was, in 
its essence, arbitrary,'— though in [)raciice it af- 
forded a much larger share of liberty to the subject 
than had ever before been permanently provided 
for in France. The nation, with this beginning, 
might easily have gone on improving its institu- 
tions, if it had been fortunate enough to acquire 
more Judicious views, and sounder moral habits: — 
but the individuals are not to be blamed, who 
would have availed themselves of a change, in 
producing which they /had no hand, to advance 
their political system a stage in the road of im- 
provement. These persons afforded no support to 
JBuonaparte, and had none of his confidence. They, 
in fact, were the chief causes of his very rapid fall, 
—for they took instant hold of his disasters to in- 
sist on his abdication ; and, by their firmness in 
this res{)ect, prevented that, w^hich, but for their 
opposition, would most probably have happened, — 
namely, an assumption of des.jotick power by Na- 
poleon, backed by his soldiers and creatures, avail- 
ing themselves of the extremity in which they 
had involved the country, and convinced that they 
had no other chance of raising a force sufficient to 
resist their enemies. It i[5ertainly is a pity that 
the few rational and honest friends of liberty in 
France, — who, by their dignified avoidance of in- 
timacy with its perfidious betrayer, set a needful 
exam|)le to all those who take the name of the 
friends of liberty, and who vindicated their intel- 
lects from reproach by refusing credence to his 



181 

professions ; it certainly is a pity that they were 
not more respectfully listened to, by the leading 
men of those powers who professed to regard a just 
settlement of the internal discords of that country, 
and the establishment of a liberal and enlightened 
government over it, as essential to the security of 
all the European states, and the general tranquillity 
of mankind. 

But the great question is still obviously unan- 
swered, — viz. how Buonaparte was brought back, — 
and in what quarter, and from what motives, he 
found the support which enabled him to seize on 
the throne in violation of both his abdication and 
deposition, and to hold it until indignant Europe 
chased him for ever from publick life ? One speci- 
men out of a large class of the modern French, will, 
if I mistake not, go a great way towards furnishing 
the solution. 

Lefebvre Desnouettes was among the most au- 
daciously early in declaring for Buonaparte when 
on his way to Paris, — and he must have been very 
principally concerned in the conspiracy. His 
character is notorious as a breaker of his parole of 
honour, and his peculiar circumstances are worth 
explanation. He was particularly fcivoured by the 
emperour, and was united by the imperial mandate 
to a young latiy of fortune. It is well known, that 
this curious mode of rewarding military merit was 
frequently adopted by Buonaj)arte, and indeed all 
the unmarried females of France, whose persons 
were connected with fortunes, were placed at his 
absolute disposal by a law, that rendered his sanc- 
tion of their nuptial engagements iudispensible for 
their validity. Lefebvre Desnouettes, having 
been thus provided with a wife, was presented 
with a palace and its sumptuous f.irniture, by his 
munificent master. The income of this man, un- 

17 



182 

der the Imperial government, is supposed to have 
amounied altogether to about twenty thousand 
pounds a year. Under the Bourbons, though he 
was always decently received at Court, and suffered 
no further reduction of his appointments than natu- 
raiiy accrued from the general change of sysstem, — 
yet it was inevitable that he should feel his conse- 
quence in society, his hopes, and even his reputa- 
tion injured, by the disgrace and destruction of the 
fountain head of all his ho; ours and piotils. But, 
in regard to the latter, his loss was by no means of 
a speculative nature: he was at once reduced from 
twenty thousand a year to about two; a sum 
scarcely sufficient to keep bis splendid hotel in 
repair. Of course he was obliged to give it up, — 
and to fall into a sphere immeasurably below 
what he had occupied. Most of those who may 
be termed the offspring of the Imperial court, ex- 
perienced the same sort of reduction in estimation, 
prospect, and income. Buonaparte had been sen- 
sible that he could <ui!y find a substitute for 
hereditary attachments in the enormous wealth 
and unbounded luxury of his adherents: the crea- 
tures of his system, therefore, were made to find in 
it a mine of riches. Their extravagance and dis- 
sipation were encouraged, that their desires might 
bind them fastly to the Imperial cause. The 
pomps and luxuries of the courtiers and officers of 
the new dynast3^ almost surpass imagination : — 
their hotels groaned under magnificence, that, in 
every thing told the anxious determination to be 
magnificent : — the princesses and duchesses of this 
modern creation, bad much that they wished to 
expunge from remembrance as to the past, and 
they deemed that they could only effect this by 
making a lavish use of the present. The kind of 
moral principle bred up in this school has been 



183 

proved to the world : — the new isobility were as 
luxurious, as profligate, and as intolerant as the old, 
— but, as they were totally without inborn sensibi- 
lities of any kind, they could not give that security 
wiiich is to be found in a gentleman's sense of pri- 
vate honour, that he v-iil abide by those fundamen- 
tal rules of conduct, without the ouservation of 
which, society would be but an accumulation of 
ruffianism, — It will not to any one seem likely, 
that a set so formed and trained, v/oukl sit down 
patiently in that humbler state, to which they 
found themselves condemned by the restoration ot! 
the Bourbons, — or that they would be very deli- 
cate in using any means that promised to relieve 
them from irksome mortifications. The Madanies 
of this nurture v.'ere, I understand, even more 
irritable than their husbands, under an order of 
things so disagreeably opposed in its external 
quiet, decorum and strictness, to the habits of the 
Imperial court, — and the spirit of female intria;ae, 
always so active and powerful in France, was vevj 
instrumental in bringing about the re- visit from 
Elba. In the final result, what a signal piece of 
retribution has this class pulled down upon itself. It 
includes individuals who have been the batchers of 
every system that has prevailed for a time by 
means of butchery, and the protiters by every 
varying visitation of mischief. These have been 
the instruments to inflict the most terrible siifferinga 
on mankind, — but, under every change, they hud 
hitherto escaped suffering themselves. Their 
baseness, in fact, had been the principle of their 
preservation : — but at last they fell into a ditch of 
their own digging. The greater number of them 
are now outcasts and wanderers. Buonaparte 
seems to have been led from Elba, only to com- 
plete his. own ruin, and give^ farther point to the 



184 



lesson, by dragging with him to perdition those 
who had poisoned by their crimes the well-spring 
of liberty, and darkened, in the storms of murder 
and desolation, that dawning day, to the light of 
whieh millions looked with anxious hopes, that 
were soon turned to disgust and despair. 

That these heads of revolt would find a body 
for it, in a soldiery whose former brilliant pros- 
pects, — -ender a ruler with a political system and 
personal character entirely military, — were now 
much clouded if not utterly closed, — was in the 
nature of things ; and only proves, as has been 
observed by others, the " great hazard to which 
civil liberty, national morality, and general prospe- 
rity are exposed all over the civilized world, from 
the prevalence of military habits, and the conver- 
sion of an undue proportion of the people into a 
professional soldiery." — That a party, not only 
far from constituting the majority of the nation in 
numbers, but with an interest directly opposed to 
the national welfare— destitute of virtues, and de- 
graded in estimation and condition, should be able 
to dispose of the kingdom by a sudden transfer, is 
to be explained only by a reference to the pecu- 
liarly lamentable state of publick opinion and in- 
formation in France. The miseries of the revo- 
lution, succeeded as they were by the sullen seve- 
rity of an imperial despotism, had totally indisposed 
the people towards any interference with politicks. 
Under Buonaparte it became a common remark, 
in the exercise of private prudence, that it was a 
foolish and improper thing to take any concern 
with political affairs, — and this disposition was 
inculcated and diffused by the management of the 
government, which was most assiduous to persuade 
or terrify the people from approaching, even in 
thought, the operations of authorityc Hence it 



185 

has become the boast of good Frenchmen, that 
they leave events to take their course, and are 
always ready with obedience to the actual rulers. 
It requires but little discernment to see, that this 
principle of passiveness is a fruitful source of dis- 
turbance and revolution, — and that it deprives 
established institutions of their strongest security. 
But they have not generally acquired even the 
alphabet of political knowledge as yet in France ; 
and it appeared to me but too plain, that the 
greatest danger to the Bourbons lay in the pre- 
judice that existed against all opposition to the 
measures of their administration, however palpa- 
bly reconcileable with a sincere attachment to the 
family, as constitutionally vested with the prero^ 
gatives of the limited French monarchy. Such an 
opposition must be in active and sanctioned exer- 
cise, draining off discontents, and impeding dan- 
gerous abuses, before the government can be deem- 
et^ secure from tho^e fatal convulsions, the effects 
of which on the freedom, morals, happiness, and 
general respectability of that country have been 
so deplorable. 

This account of the state of publiek feeling and 
opinion in relation to the royal and Imperial 
causes, — and of the temper of the French nation 
towards Buonaparte's late enterprise, — would not 
probably coincide with that which would be given 
by any Frenchman of any part3^ It is too quali- 
fied to appear accurate to any warmly interested 
individual ; but those who will open their eyes 
may soon see in France that information must be 
sought for any how but in direct testimony. A 
Frenchman can persuade himself of any thing in 
a moment, and he can get rid of an important 
belief as easily and quickly. The political con- 
versations of the saloons are not worth a moment's 

17* 



186 

attention except as curious specimeos of national 
character : according to tiieir party is the complex- 
ion of their chattering, — but, what with pleasant 
fabrications, that would in England be taken for 
serious roguery, — and grave discussions, that would 
in England be thought exquisite pleasantries, — 
the simple listener is sure to be misled, and, if he 
carries his recollection about with him, he must be 
astounded with the conflict of inconsistencies and 
the jarring of contradictory reports. He would 
shew himself more confident than wise, who should 
pretend to have gathered a thorough understanding 
of the publick mind of France from one or. two 
visits to Paris ; but a careful noting of indirect and 
circumstantial evidence, — a close observation of 
facts, and a habit of reasoning upon them inde- 
pendently, I may safely say, will be found excel- 
lent preservatives against imposition, and perhaps 
the best methods of coming to something like cor- 
rect notions of the present most extraordiu^fy 
state of this most extraordinary people. 



ui 



CHAPTER X . 

The doubtful point that excited the greatest 
interest, both in the minds of the French and the 
foreign visitors to their capital, was the course 
which the Allies would pursue, in regard to the 
great collections of the monuments of fine art, 
and the curiosities of antiquity and science, which 
had been accumulated in Paris, chiefly at the 
expense of the slates which, in the progress of the 
military invasions of France, had become the 
victims of the preponderance of her arms. The 
tide of fortune had at length turned ; and these 
states, with the exception of one, — which the 
others, however, had taken specially under theit 
protection, — were now in full possession of the 
I'rench territory as conquerors, and with no other 
visible or likely restraint on their manner of deal- 
ing with the French people, but what their own 
notions of propriety might enforce. — France had 
stripped of these treasures, which are as dear to 
the common feeling, as precious in the estimation 
of cultivated minds, all the nations that had been 
unfortunate enough to fall under her iron yoke. 
In so doing there can be no doubt that she acted 
contrary to the usages of modern war, and in that 
coarse spirit of rapacious selfishness which dis- 
tinguishes to her shame the whole of her revolu- 
tionary history. It is very possible to find out 
particular instances of very unjustifiable abuses of 
power, committed before she commenced the 
career in question ; — but, so long as they stood 
exeeptioBS to the general rule, they did but stand 



188 

out to their own disgrace, in the exposure of their 
enormity. France it was, that first incorporated 
the most odious violations in her regular system of 
conduct ; she it was, that first refused to own that 
any right could stand in the way of her power ; 
and she gave an example of a cold cruelty of 
practice, quite equal to the worthlessness of her 
principles. Austria, Italy, Prussia, the Nether- 
lands, and the various smaller states of Germany, 
were robbed of their finest works of genius and 
memorials of reputation: Rome had been strip- 
ped to enrich Paris ; the Vatican had been de- 
spoiled to stock the Louvre, When Frederick of 
Prussia made himself master of Dresden, he only 
asked of the magistiates, that he might have per- 
mission to sit in their gallery to admire its pic- 
tures : — the French generals made their selection 
of these, and packed them off for France ! The 
armies of these plundered states, however, were 
now on the sj>ot where all that had been taken 
from them was collected, and that they had the 
power to cause restitution no one could deny. 
It remained to be seen if such was their determi- 
nation. 

The French were not contented merely to ex- 
press a hope in the forbearance of their conquerors, 
on this second occasion of the a{)pearance of the 
Allies in Paris, because they had forborne the first 
time, — but they grounded a claim to the retention 
of the property in perpetuity on this circumstance. 
Few will be found to imagine for an iustant, that 
the nation which seized these articles from their 
possessors, would have relinquished any opportuni- 
ty of replacing its own properly that might have 
been taken from it in the hour of bad fortune ; 
but certain it is, that its people of all parties, 
royalists, imperialists^ and republicans, affected, in 



189 

slu equal degree, a fine indignant surprise at the 
bare suggestion that the altar pieces of Antwerp, 
which were quite destroyed by the cross lights of 
the Louvre, had better be replaced in the situa- 
tions for which Rubens painted them,— and that 
Italy had, upon the whole, both in feeling and 
fact, a stronger claim to the Transfiguration than 
France. The latter grand work was entered in 
the French catalogues as secured to them by des- 
tiny ; but it is neither decorous nor safe for mor- 
tals to interpret the resolutions of this awful 
power. The various objections that have been 
urged against the measure of restoration which 
was finally adopted by the Allies, 1 shall notice 
and comment upon, after 1 have stated some of the 
interesting facts that attended this, in my view, 
very proper proceeding. 

The Prussians alone seem to have made up 
their minds, that if ever they had occasion to pay 
a second visit to Paris, they would not leave it the 
spoils of their country to boast of. Indeed it is 
declared officially, that a promise was demanded 
from the French government in 1814, that the 
property of this description, belonging to the state 
in question, should be quietly restored, in the way 
least hurtful to the feelings of the restored family, 
after the bustle of the arrangements was over, — and 
it is added that such promise was given but not 
kept. Prince Blucher, it seems, waited for no 
settlement of concert, and sought for no co-opera- 
tion. When the commissioners came to treat for 
the surrender of Paris, he at once repelled their 
endeavour to preserve untouched the contents of 
the museums, and, in truth, he had previously com- 
menced at Saint Cloud the work of retaking. 
From the first moment of his entrance into Paris, 
he proceeded spiritedly, and independently, in 



190 

removing from the Louvre all that was in it of 
Prussian properly ; and the blanks on the walls 
shewed the dailj'^ progress of the French loss in 
this respect. The whole amount of it, however, 
would have been as nothing to the remainder of 
the collection, if the other mem!)er3 of the alliance 
could have been induced to forbear, — and it was 
thought, by those who were interested in the re- 
tention, that the best way would be to keep very 
quiet as to the proceedings of Prussia, — to atfect 
to take no notice of them whatever, — hoping that 
silence might cause the affair to die away after 
the first removals were over, — and that either the 
dull indifference or the sii;gular good-nature of the 
states of Europe, might yet leave to Paris the dar- 
ling boast of being the capital of the world as to 
Fine Art. 

For s >rae time there was reason to suspect that 
this mancBuvre v/ould be successful. The Prus- 
suias completed their seizures, congratulated them- 
selves on their own good sense, and swaggered 
about the Louvre, which now possessed nothing of 
theirs,4hough it was still rich in the spoils of other 
nations. The splendid collection was scarcely 
thinned, and there appeared no signs of an inten- 
tion to thin it further. The French had almost 
recovered courage enough to vaunt of what was 
left to them; and to insult the motives of that 
forbearance, the advantage of which they now 
made pretty sure of enjoying. This they did in 
the most unqualified style, w^ith reference to the 
abstinence of the Allies in 1814. Denon is said 
to have illustrated this, by the fable of the cock, 
who, scratching in a dunghil, found a diamond, 
which he spurned from him, white he eagerly pick- 
ed up a barley-coro. It certainly was the general 
belief in Paris, that no people knew any thing of 



191 

ihe value of paintings and statues, curiosities, and 
collections of natural history, but the French, — 
and that to this general ignorance, coupled with a 
feeling of dread, as to what the Parisians might 
have done in their vengeance, if it had been at- 
tempted to deprive them of what they so highly 
prized and relished, — they owed the continued 
possession of these treasures, after the events of 
1814. Indeed no Frenchman permitted himself 
to entertain the slightest doubt of the consciousness 
of the Allies, when iirsc masters of the French 
capital, that they were far too weak to repossess 
themselves of what was held in it as trophies of 
their defeat. " You knew^ well, that we should 
have arisen as one man to destroy you, if you had 
dared to lay hands on what every inhabitant of 
France feels to be his honour, his pride, his de- 
light, his existence — of which our country is alone 
worthy, — which are the monuments of the days of 
French glory, — and proufs, that, in the reverse of 
her fortunes, she was still deemed formidable!'* 
This was the language which the British and 
other foreigners heard in the assemblies of Paris, 
delivered with vehemence, and even with oifen- 
sive arrogance, while their countrymen were stand- 
ing guard over every publick edifice in that 
capital, while they regulated the publick festivals, 
and encamped in the publick gardens ! The French 
military were peculiarly loud and pertinacious in 
these declarations, — yet the majority of this class 
very inconsistently maintained, that all that was 
done in 1814 in France, was done by the dint of com- 
pulsion, that the Emperour was forced from a peo- 
ple that wished to retain him as their ruler, — and 
that the army took the oaths of allegiance to 
another Prince most unwillingly. It seemed 
strange, after this, to insist, that the Allies who^ 



n*2 

as it was said, were able to remove by force a 
beloved sovereign from his people, and dictate 
hateful engagements to a numerous soldiery, could 
not repossess themselves of their own pictures! 
What was this but to affirm, that a man might be 
strong enough to lift a hundred weight, and yet be 
so weak that he could not bear himself up under 
an ouace t But it very seldom happens that a 
Frenchman troubles himself to connect two facts 
together, that they may elucidate each other; — 
he is vivaciously affected with single circumstan- 
ces, and forcibly struck with simple impressions, — 
but generalizing and combining are entirely out 
of his way. 

It certainly seemed, however, as if the Allies, at 
least, hesitated very much, to mortify this offensive 
vanity. Every day new arrivals of strangers 
poured into Paris, all anxiety to gain a view of the 
Louvre before its collection was broken up : it 
was the first point to which all the British directed 
their steps every morning, in eager curiosity to 
know whether the business of removal had com- 
menced. They who took the journey to France 
at this oeriod were gratified :■ — the few pictures 
seized by the Prussians were scarcely missed, and 
all the most celebrated works remained. The halls 
of the statues might be considered uninjured, — and, 
in the great gallery above, which was perpetually 
crowded with strangers who found it a conve- 
nient rendezvous, earnest discussions and disputes 
were maiistained as to the propriety and probabili- 
ty of further stripping its walls. 

But the business was by no means at rest under 
this apparent inactivity. The towns and princi- 
palities that had been plundered, were making sedu- 
lous exertions to influence the councils of the Al- 
lies to determine on a general restoration ; and se- 



193 

vcral of the great Powers leaned decidedly towards 
such a decision. The esteemed sculptor^ Canova, 
appeared as a claimant in behalf of Rome, which 
had only her venerable name to urge, having no 
force to support her rights. Attempts were cer- 
tainly made to contrive an arrangement with the 
King of France's ministry, by which justice might 
be done to Europe, observing the greatest possible 
delicacy that the circumstances admitted of towards 
the French government and people. But Fouche 
and Talleyrand hung back, in that unprincipled, 
cunning, selfish spirit, which ever characterized the 
Imperial school of politicians; — hoping that the 
Allies would either shrink from a forcible seizure 
altogether, — or that some of the smaller states, to 
whom belonged the most valuable articles in the 
museums, might fail to receive from their powerful 
friends, that armed assistance, which v/ould enable 
them to repossess themselves of their property. 
The story went at the time, that Canova's repre- 
sentations, originally made to the French govern- 
ment, were treated with cutting contempt : Talley- 
rand was said to have dropped, by way of taunt, 
that no pictures or statues could be taken from the 
Louvre, unless there were at least fifty thousand 
soldiers to see that they were safely taken down ! 

But, at length, it seems, the patience of those, 
who saw the impolicy as well as the injustice of 
leaving to France these trophies of a monstrous 
system of aggression and spoliation, which it was 
the object of the great combination of Europe 
to destroy,— was utterly exhausted. It was re- 
solved, however, that each power of the alliance 
should act in the independent exercise of its own 
strength, according to its own views of this matter. 
Russia wns generally unckrstood to give some sup- 
port to the pretensions of the French; — she had, in 

18 



194 

Irutli, lost little or nothing, and it was known to be 
either her taste or her jiolicy, to recommend her- 
self to France as the magnanimous moderator of 
the severity of her Allies. 

Before actual force was employed, representations 
were repeated to the French government, — but the 
ministers of the King of France would neither pro- 
mise due satisfaction, nor uphold a strenuous oppo- 
sition. They shewed a ssulky disregard of every 
application. A deputation from the Netherlands 
formally claimed the Dutch and Flemish pictures 
taken during the revoiutiontry wars from these 
countries ; and this demand was conveyed through 
the Duke of Wellington, as Commander-in-Chief 
of the Dutch and Belgian armies. About the same 
time, also, Austria determined that her Italian and 
German tow^ns, which had been despoiled, should 
liave their property replaced, — and Canova, the 
ansious representative of Rome, after many fruitless 
appeals to Talleyrand, received assurances that he, 
too, should be furnished with an armed force suffi- 
cient to protect him in taking back to that venera- 
ble city, what lost its highest value in its removal 
from thence. 

Conflicting reports continued to prevail among 
the crowds of strangers and natives as to the inten- 
tions of the Allies, — but on Saturday, the 23d of 
September, ail doubt was removed. On going up 
to the door of the Louvre, I found a guard of 150 
British riflemen drawn up outside. I asked one of 
the soldiers what they were there for ? " Why, they 
tell me Sir, that they mean to take away the pic- 
tures," was his reply. I walked in amongst the 
statues^ below. In one of the halls, I found (wo 
brown-complexioned, stout, good natured looking 
women, the wives of English soldiers, examining, 
very curiously, the large reclining figure of the Ti- 



195 

ber ; one of them exclaimed with a laugh, " See how 
the youDg devils run over his body !"" The streams 
of visitors to this collection of antique beauty, had, 
for some time, presented the strangest contrasts be- 
tween the observers and the things observed. I 
once caught two Yorkshire men, privates of the 
JPoot Guards, Sfielling out from their catalogues, 
syllable by syllable, the title of Poussin's picture of 
the Rape of the Sabines ; when they had succeeded 
in putting the words together, and given one mo- 
mentary glance at the production of the pencil, 
they went on to the next number, to pursue the same 
tedious exercise with regard to it, — and so they 
would probably continue at work, until they had 
laboured through the names of some hundreds of 
pictures. Going on from these, up the vast length 
of the gallery, I found a Cossack turning up his 
simple barbarian face to the Transfiguration. He 
was gazing at it with an expression of admiration, 
but it was the same sort of expression with which 
he would regard the buffaloes and sea-lions in the 
Cabinet of Natural History. A Highland sergeant 
was fixed opposite to him, before a picture by one of 
the early Italians, in which St. Cecelia is repre- 
sented drawing a bow across a violin. His mind 
was evidently occupied, to the exclusion of every 
other consideration, with speculations on the strange- 
appearance of a woman playing on a fiddle. 

I was called from the marbles, on the day which 
I have mentioned, by a sudden rushing of feet from 
■without, and on going to the great stair-case, I sav/ 
the English guard hastily tramping up its magnifi- 
cent ascent ; — a crowd of astounded French follow- 
ed in their rear, — and, from above, many of the 
visitors to the Gallery of Pictures were attempting 
to force their way past the ascending soldiers, catch- 
ing an alarm from their sudden entrance. We had. 



. 196 

In Paris, our daily reports of the probability of con- 
vulsions, massacres, insurrections, and what not« 
that was terrible,- and Ihe Louvre was by many 
deemed the spot where the disturbance was most 
likely to break out, — it being there that the highest 
degree of French exasperation would most pfobablj'- 
be kindled. It was the general remark of even the 
people themselves, that no infliction of the Allies, 
©r of their own government, — no loss of territory or 
violation of liberty, — would aifect them with such 
mortification, rage, and sorrow, as the seizure of the 
monuments of art, and the curiosities. This was 
taking the feather from their caps, and would there- 
fore hurt them more than snatching bread from their 
mouths, or pulling the coat from their backs. No 
wonder, therefore, if it was at first imagined, that 
the English guard had been called into the Louvre, 
in consequence of the appearances of some explo- 
sion of popular fury. 

The alarm, however, was unfounded, — but the 
spectacle that presented itself was very impressive. 
A British ofiicer dropped his men in files along this 
magnificent gallery, until they extended, two and 
two, at small distances, from its entrance to its ex- 
tremity. All the spectators were breathless, in 
eagerness to know what was to be done, — but the 
soldiers stopped as machines, having no care be- 
yond obedience to their orders. They proceeded 
to untie the oil-skins from the locks of their rifles. 
The bustle, and dust, and buzz of the armed men, 
and of the curious, agitated crowds, presented a 
marked contrast to the tranquil dignity of the Ra- 
phaels and Titians on the walls, which, neverthe- 
less, were the causesof all this hurley burley. It 
was, indeed, a fine triumph for genius that was now 
in a course of celebration. Here was every heart 
agitated, every tongue voluble, every arm raised in 



197 

a zeal to possess its productions,— here were Prin- 
ces and ministers in earnest and warm discussion 
concerning their fate, — and here was a nation in a 
frenzy at the idea of losing them. 

The w^ork of removal now commenced in good 
earnest ; porters with barrows, and ladders, and 
tackles of ropes made their appearance. The col- 
lection of the Louvre might from that moment be 
considered as broken up for ever. The sublimity 
of its orderly aspect vanished: it took now the 
melancholy, confused, dissolute air of a large auction 
room after a day's sale. Before this, the visitors 
had walked down its profound length with a sense 
of respect on their minds, influencing them to pre^ 
serve silence and decorum, as they contemplated 
the majestick pictures : but decency and quiet were 
dispelled when the signal was given for the break- 
-up of the establishment. It seemed as if a nation 
had become ruined through improvidence, and was 
selling otf. 

The guarding of the Louvre was committed by 
turns to the British and Austrians, while this pro- 
cess lasted. The Prussians said that they had 
done their own business for themselves, and would 
not now incur odium for others. The French 
door-keepers were entirely superseded : they who 
had been so active and official in their manage- 
ment of the place, when I first visited it, were now 
seen,'— haunting their usual situations, it is true,-— 
but without functions or powers of any kind, — and 
they appeared to have very bitter feelings of the 
sad change. 

The workmen being incommoded by the crowds 
that now rushed to the Louvre, as the news spread of 
the destruction of its great collection, a miiitary 
order came that no visitors sliould be admitted 
without permission from the foreign commandant. 

18* 



198 

of Paris. This direction was pretty strictly ad* 
hered to by the sentinels as far as the exclusion of 
the French, — but the words Je suis Anglais, were 
always sufficient to gain leave to pass from the 
Austrians : — our own countrymen were rather more 
strict, — but, in general, foreigners could, with but 
little difficulty, procure admission. The Parisians 
stood in crowds around the door, looking wistfully 
within it, as it occasionally opened to admit Ger- 
mans, English, Russians, &c. into a palace of their 
capital from which they were excluded. I was 
frequently asked by French gentlemen, standing 
with ladies on their arms, and kept back from the 
door by the guards, to take them into their own 
Louvre, under my protection as an unknown fo- 
reigner ! It was impossible not to feel for them in 
these remarkable circumstances of mortification 
and humiliation ; and the agitation of the French 
publick was now evidently excessive. Every 
Frenchman looked a walking volcano, ready ta 
spit forth fire. Groups of the common people col- 
lected in the space before the Louvre, and a 
spokesman was generally seen, exercising the most 
violent gesticulations, sufficiently indicative of 
rage, and listened to by the others with lively signs 
of sympathy with his passion. As the packages 
came out, they crowded round them, giving vent 
to torrents of pestes, diables, sacres, and other 
worse interjections. This was indeed making the 
nation pass under saws and harrows. 

Their only resource now was in absurd stories, 
bad jokes, and childish calumnies. It became the 
fashion to abuse the Duke of Wellington, as it had 
been the fashion to praise him, and no tale was too 
ridiculous for momentary belief, if it accorded with 
the national anger. England w. s to have the 
Venus and Apollo : — this was settled : — French^ 



199 

men would not hear a doubt of it ;— they knew it 
to be a fact, — and, besides, would England assist 
in bi'eakiag up a collection of this sort, without 
securing something for herself? They were certain 
France would not. In the mean time the English 
newspapers came over with warm disavowals of a 
publick wish in England to receive any part of the 
plundered property, — declarijtg, that it would have 
a bad look to accept of any of the objects that had 
been in the Louvre, even if tendered by the owners. 
Of the publick spirit which dictated these articles, 
the French had no understanding, nor were they 
more affected by the general expression of indigna- 
tion which broke from the British in Paris, when 
the idea was thrown out, that London was to be en- 
riched with some of the works of art taken from 
the former cajjital. Those of my countrymen who 
felt the propriety of the measure which the Allies 
had adopted, had but one answer to all these sug- 
gestions : namely, that the statues were Italy's,— 
and that the pride of England would consist in 
restoring them to Italy, — as French glory lay in 
taking them from Italy. But there was a strong 
party of British who maintained, that Paris ought 
not to lose her plunder; — that she, — vindictive 
and arrogant as she was, — should be treated wilh 
generosity at the expense of justice to the weaker 
and aggrieved states whom she had oppressed. It 
was said by a German, that Englishmen alone 
would have thus argued in favour of their most in- 
veterate national enemies : — that no inhabitant of 
any other country would have debated and dis- 
puted, on general principles, a measure that would 
fix for ever the remembrance of the superiority of 
his nation, and the humiliation of its most arrogant 
foe. The French, however, could see only the 
hand of England in all that they suffered : she was 



200 

the giant in their eyes that hid the rest of their 
enemies from their sight. Wherever an English- 
man went in Paris, at this time, — whether into a 
shop, or a company, he was assailed with the ex- 
chimation — " Ah! vos compatriots /"—and the la- 
dies had always some wonderful story to tell him, 
of an embarrassment or a mortification that had 
happened to Ms duke ; of the evil designs of the 
Prince Regent, or the dreadful revenge that was 
pre[)aring against the injurers of France. In short, 
every where we saw a people suffering severely, — 
but who neither knew how to suffer with resigna- 
tion and dignity, nor to cast off their tormentors 
by a courageous exertion. 

The great gallery of the Louvre presented every 
fresh day a more and more forlorn aspect ; but it 
-combined a number of interesting points of view, 
and for reflection. Long blank spaces of dirty 
blue wall daily encreased their size and number,—' 
and told how rapidly the monuments of the glory 
of France were disappearing. Strangers continued 
to flock to Paris, particularly from Britain, hopeful 
to be yet in time to see these iine productions, 
which few, comparatively, could command the 
means of seeing after they were dispersed. The 
gallery now seemed to be the abode of all the fo- 
reigners in the French capital : — we collected 
there, as a matter of course, every morning, — but 
it was easy to distinguish the last comers from the 
rest. They entered the Louvre with steps o4* 
eager haste, and looks of anxious inquiry : they 
seemed to have scarcely stopjed by the way, — and 
to have made directly for the pictures on the in- 
stant of their reaching Paris. The first view of 
the stripped walls made their countenances sink 
under the disappointment, as to the great object of 
their journey. 



201 

The porters went on lowering the heavy frames., 
— and the last consolation of the French was in 
spreading reports that the pictures were very clum- 
sily taken down, and that many of them were con^ 
siderably injured. It appeared to me, however, 
that the work went on very comfortably,— and cer- 
tainly no picture received serious damage. The 
great damage had been already done by the French 
repairers of the works of Raphael, &c. The de- 
puties of the different states who Claimed the pic- 
tures, attended with catalogues of the lost property, 
and an Italian commissioner was present, under 
the authority of Austria, to superintend the whole 
of the arrangements. This gentleman attempted, 
on one occasion, to give his orders to some high- 
landers, who were then on guard in the Louvre, 
but the parties were quite unintelligible to each 
other: — a person interfered as interpreter, — " I 
"wish them," said the Italian, " to stand by the pic- 
tures as they are taken down, for it has been inti- 
mated to me, that some of those who are losing: 
them, mean to cut, or otherwise mutilate them, be- 
fore they are taken away," 

Crowds collected round the Transfiguration,—^ 
that picture which, according to the French ac- 
count, destimj had always intended for the French 
nation : — it was every one's wish to see it taken 
down, for the fame which this great work of Ra- 
phael had acquired,-and its notoriety in the general 
knowledge, caused its departure to be regarded as 
the consummation of the destruction of the picture 
gallery of the Louvre. It was taken away among 
the last. 

Students of all nations fixed themselves round 
the principal pictures, anxious to complete their 
copies before the workmen came to remove the 
originals. Many young French girls were seen 



■ "302 ' - ' 

among these, perched up on small scaffolds, and 
calmly pursuing their labours in the midst of the 
throng and bustle. Our officers generally posted 
themselves close to these interesting artisis, who 
seemed quite able to flirt with the foreign hus- 
sars, and copy a Holy Family at the same time. 
Both the males and females in this singular country, 
possess the quality of reconciling themselves to 
all circumstances, — and of permitting nothing short 
of a t)hysical obstruction to stop them. This qual- 
ity would indeed be a most valuable one, if it 
could exist in union with the fine sensibilities of 
the mind, instead of being lound, as it generally is, 
in their place. It is the province of philosophy, 
however, to bring them together, — and it is for 
those who pronounce on the French character, to 
say whether it be its levity, or profoundity, that 
produces the frame of temper which I have men- 
tioned. 

There was, generally, a large collection of En- 
glish female beauty in the Louvre, and the miiitary, 
who walked in attendance on the ladies, bore the 
air of conquerors and masters pretty strongly im- 
pressed on their carriage. A sight more inspiring 
of the patriotick affections and exultations in a Bri- 
tish bosom, cannot be imagined, — and, considering 
it as the triumph of justice and good taste, as well 
as of our nation, — considering it as the downfall of 
a barbarous, cold, theatrical imposition, which, un- 
der the specious language and show of refinement, 
practised degradation and corruption, — the feelings 
of satisfaction might be encouraged safely and ho- 
nourably. 

When the French gallery was thoroughly cleared 
of the property of other nations, I reckoned the 
number of pictures which then remained to it, — and 
found that the total left to the French nation, of 



203 

the fifteen hundred paintings* which constituted 
their magniScent collection, — was two hundred and 
seventy-four! The Italian division comprehended 
about eighty-five specimens : these were now dwin- 
dled to twelve : — in this small number, however, 
there are some very exquisite pictures by Raphael, 
and other great masters. Their Titians are mucli 
reduced, — but they keep the Eotombment, as be- 
longing to the King of France's old collection, 
which is one of the finest by that artist. A melan- 
choly air of utter ruin mantled over the walls of this 
superb gallery : — the iloor was covered with empty 
frames, — a Frenchmao, in the midst of his sorrow, 
had his joke, in saying,—" Well, we should not 
have left to thetn even these !" In walking down 
this exhausted place, I observed a person, wearing 
the insignia of the legion of honour, suddenly stop 
short, and heard hitn exclaim,—" Ah^ my God^ — and 
the Paul Fetter^ tdo /" This referred to the famous 
painting of a bull, by that master, which is the lar- 
gest of his p.ictures, and is very highly valued. It 
b.elonged to the Netherlands, and has returned to 
them. It was said that the Emperour Alexander 
offered fifteen thousand pounds for it. 

The. removals of the statues were longer of 
commencing, and took up more time*; — they were 
still packing these up when i quitted Paris, i saw 
the Venus, the Apollo, and the Laocoou removed : 
these may be deemed the presiding deities of the 
collection. The solemn antique look of these hails 
fled for ever, when the workmen came in with their 
straw, and plaster of Paris, to pack up. The French 
could not, for some time, allow themselves to '/e- 
lieve that their enemies would dare to deprive ihem 
of these sapred works : — it appeared to them im- 

* The catalogues do uot give so many ; but there were many 
pictures not etitered in the catalogues, from cue cause or other. 



204 

possible th^t they should be separated from Franee 
■—from la France — the country of the Louvre and 
the Institute ; — it seemed a contingency beyond 
the limits of human reverses. But it happened 
nevertheless : — they were all removed. One after- 
noon, before quitting the palace, I accidentally 
stopped longer than usual to gaze on the Venus, 
and I never saw so clearly her superiority over the 
Apollo, the impositions of whose style, even more 
than the great beauties with which they are min- 
gled, have gained for it an inordinate and indis- 
criminating admiration. On this day, very few, if 
any of the statues, had been taken away, — and 
many said that France would retain them, although 
she was losing the pictures. On the following 
morning I returned, and the pedestal on which the 
Venus had stood for so many years, the pride of 
Paris, and the delight of every observer, was va- 
cant ! It seemed as if a soul had taken its flight 
from a body. The other statues followed rapidly. 
When I quitted the French capital, there were not 
a dozen articles in the three principal halls, and 
they were very quickly emptying the others. 

All well-informed persons, whether French or 
foreigners, are well assured that nothing has been 
taken from a»y of the collections in the Louvre, 
beyond the spoils of the arms of revolutionized 
France. The stripped state of the Palace, which 
looked a mere wreck, caused many, who were igno- 
rant of the facts, to susjject, that the Allies had in 
part copied the system of plundering, which they 
reprobated. But this was not the case. It must 
be recollected, that the original royal collection was 
by no means very large — putting the Luxembourg 
out of the question, which could scarcely be said to 
be disturbed by the Allies : — moreover, several pic- 
tures of the French school had been put away ia 



205 

j*recaution, and they would no doubt make their 
appearance, again when all was settled, and the 
foreigners withdrawn. It is understood that the 
French attempted to hide several valuable works, 
which fell within the class of plunder. When these 
were not forth-coming, on demand, — or when what 
was claimed, from its nature or situation, could not 
be easily or conveniently removed, the Commis- 
sioners adjusted exchanges. This was done in the 
instance of some beautiful pillars which the King 
of Prussia claimed, and which could not, without 
causing mischief, be taken down. The great pic 
ture of the Marriage in Canaan, by Paul Veronese, 
though not originally French property, has been 
secured to the Louvre by exchange with Austria. 
Many of the Flemish pictures were at first secret- 
ed : this led the Deputies from the Netherlands to 
wait on M. Denon, attended by a superiour officer of 
their country, and to threaten him with the charge 
of a body of three hundred soldiers, if the pictures 
wanting were not immediately produced. The 
greater number of those deficient were brought for- 
ward, but some could not be found. Many, both 
Flemishandltalian,thatwerepublick property, were 
discovered in the private palace of Cardinal Fesch 
(at the end of the Rue Moiitblanc,) which served for 
the quarters of the Prince of Orange.^ — The collec- 
tion now possessed by France, as rightfully belong- 
ing to it, is still a good one, and may fairly be the 
boast of Frenchmen. 

But the bitterest mortification of the people of 
Paris, yet remains to be described. The well- 
known horses, taken from the church of St. Mark 
in Venice, had been peculiarly the objects of popu- 
lar pride and admiration. They were praised 
(probably without much judgment) as the most 
beautiful antiques in the world, — and the revolu? 

19 



206 

tionists who siezed them, declared, in their publick 
announcement of the fact, that, after having been 
su!}iected to the greatest changes, they were '•'■ c?ijin'^ 
fixed in a landoflibeirty and virtue! Buonaparte had 
removed them from the low pillars where they were 
originally stationed, and where they could be seen, 
—and attached them to a very trumpery car of vic- 
tory, with hrightly-gilded harness, clapping the 
whole on the top of nis arch of triumph in the 
Place Carousel. It was in a very bad taste that all 
this was done : — the forms of the four horses were 
quite lost, — the arch, copied from Constantine's, 
was by no means suited to the situation, — and the 
new car, the two new tigures, and the new braces, 
all staring in bright gold, completely subdued the 
antique bronz. Still, however, being exposed in 
the publick view, in one of the most publick situa- 
tions of Paris, this was esteemed the noblest trophy 
'belonging to the capital, — and there was not a Pa- 
risian vender of a pailful of water, who did not look 
like a hero Vv'hen the Venetian horses were spo- 
ken of. 

" Have you heard what has been determined about 
the horses ?'' was every foreigner's question : — " Oh 
they cannot mean to take the horses away," was 
every Frenchman's remark. On the morning of 
Thursday the 26th of September, however, it was 
whisi)ered that they had been at work all night in 
losening them from their fastenings. It was soon 
confirmed that this was true, — and the French 
then had nothing !« ft for it, but to vow, that if the 
Allies were to attempt to touch them in the day 
light, Paris vvould rise at once, eKtermifsate its 
enemies, and rescue its honour. On Friday morn- 
ing, 1 walked through the square : it was clear 
that some considerable change had taken jlace; 
the effect of the forms of the horses was finer than 
I had ever before seen it. While lookins: to dis- 



y 



2or 

cover what had been done, — a private of the 
British staff cor|)s came up. "• You see, sir, we 
took away the harness last night," said he. — " You 
have made a great improvement by so doing," I 
replied :— "%ut are the British employed on this 
work?" The man said that the Aastrians had 
requested the assistance of our staff corps, — for it 
Inchjded better workmen than any they had iu their 
service. 1 heard that an angry French mob had 
given some trouble to the people employed on the 
Thursday night, — but that a body of Parisian gen- 
darmerie had dispersed the assemblage. The 
Frenchmen continued their sneers against the 
Allies for working in the dark : fear and shame 
w-ere the causes assigned. " If you take them at 
all, why not take them in the face of day ? — But 
you are too wise to drag upon yourselves the irre- 
sistible popular fury which such a sight would ex- 
cite against you !" 

On the night of Friday the order of proceeding 
w^as entirely changed. It had been found proper 
to Icall out a strong guard of Austrians, horse and 
foot. The mob had been charged by the cavalry, — 
and it was said, that several had their limbs bro- 
ken. I expected to find the place on Saturday 
morning quiet and open as usual ; — but when 1 
reached its entrance, what an impressive seen e 
presented itself! The delicate plan, — for such in 
truth it was, — of working by night was now over. 
The Austrians had wished to spare the feelings of 
the King of France the pain of seeing his capital 
dismantled before his palace windows, Avhere he 
passed in his carriage when he went out for his 
daily exercise. But the insolent ignorance of the 
people rendered severer measures necessary. My 
companion and myself were stopped from entering 
the place by Austrian dragoons: a large mob of 



208 

Frenchmen were collected here, standing on tip- 
toe to catch the Arch in the distance, on the top 
of which the ominous sight of numbers of workmen, 
busy about the horses, was plainly to be distin- 
guished. We advanced again to Hie soldiers: 
some of the French, by whom we were surrounded, 
said, " whoever you are, you will not be allowed 
to pass." i confess I was for retiring, — for the 
whole assemblage, citizens and soldiers, seemed 
to wear an angry alarming aspect. But my com- 
panion was eager for admittance. He was put 
back again by an Austrian hussar : — " What, not 
the English /" he exclaimed in his own language. 
The mob laughed loudly when they heard the 
foreign soldier so addressed : — but, the triumph was 
ours; — way was instantly made for us, — and an 
officer, on duty close by, touched his helmet as 
we passed. It was impossible not to feel for the 
French, thus left behind in their own capital. Win- 
tering into the interiour, the spectacle became more 
and more interesting. It was here that Buonaparte 
held his reviews : it was from hence that his troops 
defiled off, when he sent them forth to establish 
new dynasties, and displace old : — it wa« here, 
according to some letters, written by Englishmen 
from Paris during the emperour's last reign of three 
months,— that the national guard and the boys of 
the schools, rolled, as if drunk with enthusiasm in 
Ms cause, — and atforded, what the writers in ques- 
tion deemed an unequivocal pledge of the stability 
of his power, by proving, as they thought, that it 
rested deep in the hearts of the French nation. — It 
was here that I now saw one thousand Austrians, 
horse and foot, in full and exclusive possession : — 
debarring the French from using the square, and 
charging roughly back all who shewed any incli- 
nation to violate the prohibition. Five hundred 



209 

of the soldiers were on the ground, — most of them 
sleeping; with their heads on their knapsacks, as if 
they had been pillows of down. Many of their 
wives, dull-lookiag German women, were seated 
in the midst of them. A strong guard of infantry- 
surrounded their comrades, and the Arch: — on 
the outside of these, sentinels walked ai>out, — and 
cavalry filled up the rest of the space. The long 
range of the windows of the Louvre was crammed 
with the heads of the British and other foreigners, 
looking earnestly on this remarkable scene. Be- 
yond each of the avenues into the place, the 
French crowds were to be perceived, stretching 
forward their necks, and raising their bodies, to 
discover as much as })0ssible of what was going 
on, from the distance to which they were confined. 
The King and the Princes had left the Thuilleries, 
to be out of the view of so mortifying a business. 
The court of the Palace, which used to be gay 
with young Gardes du Corps and equipages, was 
now silent, deserted, and shut up. Not a soul 
moved in it. The top of the Arch was filled with 
peo[)le5 and the horses, though as yet all there, 
might be seen to begin to move. The carria^res, 
thftt were to take them away, were in waiting 
below, and a tackle of ropes was already affixed to 
one. The small door, leading to the top, was 
protected by a strong guard : every one was striv- 
ing to obtain permission to gratify his curiosity, by 
visiting the horses for the last time that they could 
be visited in this situation. Permission, however, 
could necessarily be granted but to few. 1 was 
of the fortunate number. In a minute I had 
climbed the narrow dark stair, ascended a small 
ladder, and was out on the top, with the most 
picturesque view before me that can be imagined. 
An English lady asked me to assist her into 

19* 



210 

Baonapai'te's Car of Victory: his own statue was 
to have been placed in it, when he came back a 
Conqueror from his Russian expedition ! If it had, — 
I should have lost the opportunity of giving my 
hand to a countrywoman, to place her in that 
situation. I followed her and her husband into the 
car, and we found a Prussian officer there before 
us. He looked at us, and, with a good-humoured 
smile, said, " The Emperour kept the English out 
of France, but the English have now got where he 
could not !" — Ah^ pauvre Napoleon ! he added in a 
sneering tone : but not one of us could well an- 
swer him. I felt my head turn round. Connect- 
ing one event with another, their reverses made 
one feel the place frightfully unsafe. — Below were 
the victorious Austrian soldiers; at a distance 
immense crowds of the defeated but enraged 
Freoch; behind us the Palace of the Thuilleries, now 
for a moment tenantless after receiving so many 
tenants ; on one side the long Louvre, filled with 
«ur countrymen, and almost stripped of its invalua- 
ble contents : close to us were the horses that 
ft'om Greece had been taken to Rome, to Constan- 
tinople, to Venice, to Paris, — and were now to be 
sent back to Venice. These revolutions, more 
than the height of the arch, made one feel giddy. 
Buonaparte had stood w^here we were then stan- 
ding : — he had brought his bride, Maria Louisa, 
to this spot,— and his statue, which was to have 
been fixed as the consummation of the trophy, 
was completed by the artist. - One thing only was 
wanting :~ it had not been erected. 

The top of the Arch being very narrow, it was 
not possible to see the horses properly. I stooped 
below them, got up between two,— and rested my 
arm on these works (as it is said,) of Lysippus. 
They partook of nothing of the whirl and alteration 



211 

about them : they were of distant ages, and had 
come from distant places : the world might be said 
to have changed since they were young,— hut they 
had changed in nothing. They turned the same 
unmoved faces on the mobs of modern Paris, as they 
did on the mobs of Corinth. 

The English staff corps, helping the Austrians, 
were busy about them. 1 found myself in the way, 
and left the top of the arch. From the Place Ca- 
rousel I saw the one to which the tackle was fixed. 
make a considerable movement forward : it stea- 
died again for a moment; — the people below pulled 
again ; — it shook, — advanced farther,- — its fore feet 
were beyond the arch. One other pull, and it 
sprung grandly off, and swung in the air. I turned 
to look towards the French : their crowds were in 
a movement, caused by violent feeling ; arms were 
up, fingers pointing, heads waving. There was a 
general bustle too at all the windows of the Louvre. 
The horse slowly descended, and was received 
safely in one of the cars. The others followed the 
same afternoon, but it became dark before the whole 
were removed. 

The cry of the French now was, that it was 
abominable, execrable, to insult the King in his 
palace, — to insult him in the face of his own sub- 
jects, by removing the horses in the face of day ! I 
adjourned with a friend to dine at a Restorateufs^ 
near the garden of the Thuilleries, after witnessing 
what I have described. Between seven and eight 
in the evening, we heard the rolling of wheels, the 
clatter of cavalry, and the tramp of infantry. A 
number of British were in the room : they all rose 
and rushed to the door, without hats, and carrying 
in their haste their white table napkins in their 
hands. The horses were going past, in military 
procession, lying on their sides in separate cars. 



212 

iPirst came cavalry, then infantry, then a car ;— 
then more cavalry ; more infantry, then another 
car, — and so on, till all the four past. The drums 
were beating, — and the standards went waving by. 
This was the only appearance of parade, that at- 
tended any of the removals. Three Frenchmen, 
seeing the groupe of English, came up to us, — and 
began a conversation. They appealed to us if this 
was not shameful. A gentleman observed, that the 
horses were only going back to the place from 
whence the French had taken them :— if there was 
a right in power for France, — there must also be 
one for other states : — but the better way to con- 
sider these events, was, as terminating the times of 
robbery and discord. Two of them seemed much 
inclined to come instantly round to our opinion : — 
but one was much more consistent. He appeared 
an "officer, and was advanced beyond the middle age 
of life. He kept silence for a moment, and then, 
with strong emphasis said, — " You have left me 
nothing for my children but hatred against En- 
gland; this shall be my legacy to them." — " Sir," it 
was replied, — " it will do your children no good, 
and England no injury." 

The following are some particulars collected 
from different sources of information, relative to the 
losses which France sustained, in her various pub- 
lick establishments. It is possible, however, that 
some inaccuracies may have crept into the accounts. 

The most unfavourable reports had gone about 
relative to the fate of the establishment of the Gar- 
den of Plants, and Museum of Natural History. It 
had been said that the Allies had not only claimed 
the restitution of what had been originally taken 
from them, but, that they had selected out of the 
French collections whatever was wanting to com- 
plete their own. The erroneousness of all these re- 



213 

ports was ascertained. Monsieur Brugman, the 
superintendant of the Stadtholder's collection, and 
who, twenty years since, surrendered to the French 
power whatever it thought proper to demand, was 
appointed by the Commissioners of the government 
of the Netherlands, to claim, from Louis the Eigh- 
teenth's government, the restitution of the things 
taken from Holland. The minister of the interiour, 
in consequence of an application from this gentle- 
man, gave orders that they should be restored ; but, 
instead of the restitution of the identical objects that 
had been seized from the Dutch, an amicable ar- 
rangement took place, by which the greater part of 
them remain untouched in the French Museum — 
and a new collection, including a complete series 
of natural productions, v/as formed for their original 
possessors, out of the duplicates in the possession 
of the French cabinet. 

The collection thus made of the different classes, 
eonsists of 

260 quadrupeds, 
^ 800 birds, 

'338 reptiles, 

802 fishes, 

3, or 400 shells, 
and it forms, consequently, a much more valuable 
possession than the productions originally taken, 
would have been. None of the above mentioned 
articles were drawn from the French cabinet to 
which the publick is admitted, but from a private 
store which the establishment possesses, and which 
is immense. As to the library of this establish- 
ment, it was Yerj little indebted to the Orange col- 
lection, and the right of claiming the small number 
of books that might have been domanded, was 
waved, in consideration of the things received. No 
plants whatever were claimed. The cause of this 



214 

amicable settlement of the Dutch claims, may be 
worthy of mention. It appears, that, when Mon- 
sieur Thouin, (the celebrated professor of botany 
and agriculture, still living, and holding the <5irec- 
tion of the botanical department at the Museum of 
Paris,) was commissioned by the French govern- 
ment to select from the Dutch collection whatever 
he thought best calculated to enrich the French 
one, it was represented to him by Monsieur Brug- 
man, that not only a publick injury was sustained 
by this act of the French government, but a private 
one also ia his own instance ; for that the employ- 
ment which he held must of necessity cease. In 
consequence of this representation, M. Thouin 
allowed M. Brugman three days to remove and 
conceal some of the most valuable objects, and was 
sufficiently moderate in what he took himself not to 
affect materially the existence of the establishment. 
This circumstance, which has not been unremem- 
bered, together with the consideration which Mon- 
sieur Cuvier and all the professors of the establish- 
ment of the Garden of Plants, enjoy abroad, gave 
rise to the friendly arrangement in question. 

The removal of the natural productions from 
Holland was never sanctioned by any treaty. The 
Prussians, on their first arrival wanted to encamp 
in the garden of Plants, as they did in that of the 
Luxembourg Palace. This would have exposed it 
to much damage, but, in consequence of the Baron 
de Rumboldt's* interference, the troops received 
orders to the contrary. 

This miiseum had been enriched a little at the 
expense of the Verona collection, which had sup- 
plied it with a good many specimens in the class of 
fishes. The Emperour of Austria, who claims in 
the name of Verona, took birds in exchange. 

* The celebi^ted traveller, brother of the minister, and cham- 
lierlain of the Kino:. 



215 

The library of the Areenal is not barely a repo- 
sitory of rniiitary works, it em. races knowledge of 
every dtsduAwn. It was formed by Monsieur de 
Pauiy d'Argeiison, mmister of war under Louis 
XV i. The story told at this establishment is, that, 
shortly after the entrance of the Allies, some Prus- 
sian officers visited the library, and inquired for 
different works, which were shew^n to them. A 
fewdajs after, the same officers returned, attended 
with a strong guard, and desired that works, ac- 
cording to a list which they produced, should be 
delivered into their hands. Some difficulties were 
made, but th*^ works, it is said, were at length 
brought forward. M. de TreneuU, the librarian,* 
rei^aired in all haste to the Baron de Muffling, the 
Prussian governour of Paris, to submit his com- 
plaint; — this gentleman referred him (oM. tie Pful, 
who held Paris, by whom he was again referred to 
M. de Muffling. In the mean time the works in 
question were canying off. Finding all expostu- 
lation with these ot^cers unavailing, M. de Tre- 
neuil solicited the inrerc«^ssioo of the minister of 
the interiour, but French inOuence could be of little 
weight, and the collection was about to be despoiled 
of its most valuable works, when the fortunate in- 
terference of M. de Humboldt effected what no other 
power could have accomplished. He obtained An 
order from the King of Prussia for the immediate 
restitution of the effects, and was unremitting in his 
exertions till it was carried into execution. The 
works taken away were thus restored, with the ex- 
ception of a few maps of Cassini's, which had got 
dispersed into different Prussian hands. 

The^ manuscripts of the Vatican and others 
brought from Florence, Venice, &c. — the whole of 
which were kept in the depot dcs Archives, Vidlle 

* A poet, author ol ttie Violation des Tomheauoe. - 



216 

rue du Temple^ were claimed partly by the Pope, 
and partly by the Emperour of Austria, and restor- 
ed. They were ^ery numerous. Some manuscripts 
which had been depositefl in the Imperial, now the 
Royal Library, have also been restored. Th" oili- 
er libraries, such as those of St. Genevieve, and the 
Quaire Nations^ contained no revolutionary or 
predatory acquisitions. 

The depot of the models of the fortified towns of 
France at the Invalids, was occupied by the Prus- 
sians from their first arrival in Paris. I visited it 
some time after the entrance of the Allies. Twen- 
ty-two of the beautiful models had been carried off 
by the Prussians, who had selected all those of the 
towns situated on their frontier. It was the stupid 
clamour of the capital that the English intended 
taking the models of' some of the sea-port towns, 
such as Brest and Cherbourg. This collection of 
models has been forming ever since the reign of 
Louis the XlVth. The execution of them is singu- 
larly correct and elegant. They exhibit a bird's- 
eye view of the town in miniature, and its fortifica- 
tions. They were constructed for purpo'fees of 
study, and none were formerly admitted to see them 
but engineer officers, privileged persons, and for- 
eigners of high distinction. Speaking of the Hotel 
of the Invalids, it may not be unworthy of notice, 
that the veterans of the establishment secreted, as 
some say, the colours taken in battle entrusted to 
their care, that they might not fall into the hands 
of the Allies. 

It appeared from all my inquiries, that with the 
exception of the circumstances related in regard to 
the library of the arsenal, no act of violence has 
been committed in any of the publick establish- 
ments of Paris ; and that, when force was resorted 
to, as in the instance of the museum of paintings 



and statues, the only object and result have been 
to restore property to its original possessors. 

The Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers, the Cabinet 
des Medailles, the tiotel des Monnais or Mint, the 
Manufacture des Gobelins, have all been respected. 

The manufactory of arms at Versailles, perhaps 
the finest in Europe, is said to have been destroyed 
by the Prussians. The manufactory of powder at 
Essone has also been destroyed by them : all the 
machines and implements (some of which may be 
curious since a new process of making gunpowder 
had been invented at that manufactory,) they car- 
ried off, and sent in boats along the Seine. 

The exactions enforced, and devastations com- 
mitted by the Allies collectively, since their inva- 
sion of France, may be valued at a hundred and 
fifty millions 'of francs. This is independent of 
the regular contribution, till the payment of which, 
a hundred and fifty thousand foreigners are to be 
maintained at the expense of the nation. The 
Prussians have not cost less to France than three 
francs a-day, each man, during their stay. 

The loss sustained by the possessors of landed 
property may be estimated, at least, at one year's 
income, and in many instances at more. The 
difficulty of raising money upon property may afford 
an idea of its insecurity, or at least of the opinion 
of its insecurity. Before the enterprise of Buona^ 
parte, money was to be raised at four, or even three 
and a half per cent, upon landed property, and at 
five per cent, upon emoluments from office. JS'Ow 
money is to be had u[)on hardly any terms : — and 
this diuiculty of raising money occurs at a period 
when demands for it are made from allquarlers; 
which may give an idea of the general distress of 
the country. 

20 



218 

The following is a list of the statues, and other 
works of sculpture, conquered by Buonaparte in 
1797, and sent to France, all of which she has 
now lost : » 

The Apollo. 

The Meleager. 

The Torso. 

The Antinous (of the Vatican.) 

The Adonis. 

The Hercules of Commodus. 

The Apollo of the Muses. 

The Discobolus. 

The Piping Faun. 

The Torso of Cupid. 

The Paris. 

The Zeno. 

The Discobolus 2d. 

The Julius Caesar. 

The Augustus. 

The Tiberius (with his toga.) 

The Terpsichore. 

The Polyhymnia. 

The Melpomene. 

The Thalia, 

The Clio, 

The Calliope. 

The Euterpe, 

The Erato. 

The Trajan. 

The Posidipi. 

The Menander. 

The Shepherd (plucking the thorn.) 

The Dying Gladiator. 

The Crouching Venus. 

The Cleopatra. 

The Laocoon 



219 

The Adrian, 
The Phocian. 
The Demosthenes. 
The Sardanapalus. 
The Sextus Hipperius. 
The Antinous (of the Capitol.) 
The Melpomene, > different from the 
The Urania, ^ foregoing. 

The Venus. 
The Juno. 
The Flora. 
The Ariadne, 
The Vestal. 
The Little Ceres. 
The Amazon. 
The Minerva. 
The Hebe. 

The Cupid an^ Psyche. 
The Jupiter, 
The Homer. 
The Alexander. 
The Jupiter Berapis. 
* The Menelaus. 
The Junius Brutus. 
The Marcus Brutus. 
The Ocean. 
The Cato and Porcia. 
The Two Sphinxes. 
The Urania. 
The Three Candelabras. 
The Three Altars. 
The Tomb of the Muses, 
The Tiber, and several other pieces. 

The following is a list of pictures taken by the 
same personage at the same time^ and now re= 
stored to the owners : 



2-20 



The Transfiguration. Raphael. 

The Assumption. Do. 

The Crowning of the Virgin. Do. 

The Annunciation. Do. 

The Adoration of the Magi. Do. 

The Baptism of our Saviour. Do. 

Faith, Hope, and Charity. Do. 

The Resurrection of our Saviour. Do. 

The Resurrection. P. Pcrugino. 

The Holy Family. Do. 

St. Augustin and the Virgin. Do. 

TJie Marriage of the Virgin. Do. 
The Virgin and the Saints of Perugium. Do. 

Tlie Prophets. Do. 

St. Benedict. Do. 

St. Placida. Do. 

St. Scholastica. Do. 

The Eternal Father. Do. 

St. Sebastian. Do, 

St. Augustin. Do. 

St. Bartholomew- Do. 

St. Pauh Do. 

St. John. Do. 

The Virgin. Do. 

The Deposition of the Cross. Do. 

A Virgin. Do. 

The Circumcisioii. Guercino. 

St. Petronilla. Do. 

St. Thomas. Do. 
St. Jerome. _ Dominichino^ 

Martyrdom of St. Agnes. Do. 

The Virigin of St. Jerome. Corregio. 

The Virgin a I'Ecuelle. Do. 

The Descent from the Cross. Caravagio^ 
Fiefty. Hannibal CarraccL 

The Nativity. Do. 
St. Romualdo. Andrea Sacchi, 

A Miracle. Do. 



221 

A Virgin of St. Francis* AlfanL 

Fortune. Gtddo, 

Martyrdom of St. Peter. Do. 

The Virgin. Garafalo, 

Martyrdom of St. Erasmus. Poussin. 

Martyrdom of 8t. Gervais. Vahntim. 

The Crowning. Procacini, 

The St. Sebastian. Do. 

Venice and Modena afforded many other pic- 
tures and curious works of art ; and no notice is 
taken here of the spoliations from Germany, the 
Netherlands, &c. — so that the above include but a 
small portion of the restorations. 



To the Museum of Natural History Buonaparte 
sent 

The Hortus Siccus of Haller. 

SpaHanzani's Collection of Volcanick Substances. 

The Minerals of Pere Pirri of Milan. 

The Minerals of the Institute of Bologna. 

The Minerals of the Aldrovandi, in sixteen 
volumes. 

The Collection of Marbles and Gems of the 
Institute of Bologna. 

The Manuscript Figures of Aldrovandi, in se- 
venteen volumes. 

The Needles of Rock Christal. 



The following articles were sent to the National 
Library : 

The Manuscripts of the Ambrosian Library, 
and of that of Brera. 

The Manuscripts of the Abbey of Bt. Salvador 

of Boiogna, 

20* 



222 

The Donations made to the Church of Ravennaj^ 
on Papyrus, in 490. 

The Manuscripts of the Antiquities of Josephus, 
on Papyrus. 

The Manuscripts of the History of the Popes. 

A Manuscript of Virgil, which had belonged to 
Petrarch, with Notes in Petrarch's hand writing. 

The Manuscripts of Galileo in his hand writing, 
upon the Flux and Reflux of the sea ; and upon 
Fortifications. 

The port-folio of the Works of Leonardi da Vinci, 

Twelve Manuscripts of Vinci upon the Sciences. 

The Anatomical Tables of Haller, with addi- 
tions and corrections in his own hand writing. 

The Books of ancient editions, proceeding from 
the Ambrosian Library, as well as from those of 
ij^e Institute of Bologna, of the Abbey of St. Sal- 
vador, and of the University of Pavia. 

Five hundred manuscripts of the Library of the 
Vatican. 



All these articles are now lost to France, and 
many more, which were taken from other states at 
different times, and in different ways. That the 
people should be exasperated at their loss is not 
strange, for we none of us like to refund, however 
objectionable may have been the means of acquir- 
ing. What has been harsh'y commented upon in 
these pages, is that light, superficial turn of publick 
character, which cannot even settle itself into 
steady anger or sorrow, under a publick mortifica- 
lion or calamity, but solaces itself with paltry 
boastings,, encreasing in offensive arrogance as the 
national condition becomes more debased, — ^which 
assumes the air of wisdom on the streupith of i.^^nc-^ 



2-23 

ranee,— -and gratifies itself with a phras6, when it 
is proved deficient in a quality, or is deprived of a 
thing. 

But there are others, beside the French, who re- 
probate the breaking up of the Louvre, and these 
objectors out of France, are chiefiy of our own 
country. So far as they thus shew an indepen- 
dent frame of thinking, and imjiartiality of dispo- 
ftition, their opinions are very creditable to them, — 
and, as has been said before, Britain is perhaps the 
only country in the world, that would furnish a 
Strong party to attack the humiliation and impo- 
verishment of her enemy. Nothing can be more 
proper than that these measures should be judged 
on general principles, and not according to the 
suggestions of pique, prejudice, or selfishness; — - 
but it is precisely when tried by the test of general 
principles that the propriety of breaking up the 
collection in the Louvre, is most apparent. 

The question resolves itself into one of good 
taste, — and one of political and moral jusiice. 

As a matter affecting the interests of Fine Art, 
it is by many thought a pity that this great collec- 
tion should not have remained entire, — to be easy 
of access, — to furnish instruction to the student^ 
whose slender means may not permit him to travel 
to distant and various places, — and to stand as a 
great temple, to which the world of taste might 
flock to offer its adoration. — -All this is specious^ 
and will probably remain the favourite doctrine 
with the many, in spite of any thing that can be 
here said against it. Nothing, however, can bfe 
more fundamentally wrong. It grounds itself en- 
tirely upon principles and motives, which have no 
natural connexion with high excellence in the 
vyorks of art, nor with deep feeling of their beauties* 
These are faeility, common popularity, and econo» 



224 

my :-*and, on the other hand, it is in opposition to 
all the qualities and circumstancf^s thai; have ever 
chieflly elicited genius, kindled sensibility, and re- 
fined the perception. The idea of the great benefit 
of these standing collections, and organized ac ;(k- 
mies, originates in the mistake of thinking, that 
excellence, in the arts which derive their essential 
graces and value from the imagination, is to be 
built uj) in a regular ascent from the merits of their 
first followers, as in those that are guided solely by 
reasoning, and are entirely composed of the gains 
of human knowledge. This is to confoimd fancy 
with fact, — and to suppose that what is favourable 
to the latter, must encrease the powers of the for- 
mer: — yet, when thus fairly put down on paper 
this disposition will appear to every one absurd. 
In the inviginative arts, whatever dissolves a charm 
of the feeling, does more mischief than can be 
compensated for by any saving of money or trouble. 
This being the case, it follows that a picture or a 
statue in Rome must be of more use to art 
than two pictures or two statues in Paris. It will 
be said, and truly, that they are more easily seen, 
copied, and studied in Paris ; — that many can ga 
to see them there, that could not go to Rome ; — 
that it is allowing the young artist to save his^ 
money, and to save his time, to put all the fine 
works of art together, and enable him to sit down 
before them with every accommodation. This 
mode of reasoning has reference to an artificial and 
improper state of things : — it will generally be in 
the mouth of the practical artist, as things are, — 
for the practice of art is now a trade, or at least a 
profession, to which thousands are annually devoted, 
as to the '>ar, or to surgery,— and must therefore be 
systematically bred up, as young lawyers go to the 
courts to learn precedents and formS; and young 



•225 

surgeons attend hospitals to see all the varieties of 
diseases. The convenience and sujiport of a system 
like this can command no indulgence from sound 
criticism. If great collections did nothing worse 
than seduce and sustain this large stock of artists, 
they would deserve to be decried as pernicious 
mischiefs, — as any thing would, that should make 
fathers talk of making their sons poets,— poetry 
being a very genteel and profitable way of gain- 
ing a livelihood ! — To be a good painter is as ex- 
clusively the gift of nature, as to be a good poet,— - 
though a bungler of the former class is certainly 
more endurable than a bad versifier. In England, 
we have put the practice in question on the most 
reasonable footing that it will admit of, — by con- 
stituting ;?or/raiY painting a. regular branch of our 
manufactures : — eminence in which may lead a 
man to the honour of knighthood as certainly as if 
he were eminent as a soap-boiler, or as a cotton-spin- 
ner, or as a vender of lottery tickets. Now, 
though it does not fall within common natures, 
however trained, to produce poetical paintings, 
yet there are few who may not be taught how to 
get up a portrait w^hich shall be very much prized 
when hung up over family chimney-pieces. These, 
then, have their sufficient uses, and draw for them- 
selves their own natural encouragement. But, in 
France, they do by imposition, and in theatrical af- 
fectation, what in England is done as a genuine ex- 
ertion, appealing to a real feeling. In Paris there are 
some hundreds of historical painters, as they are 
called, who execute academical studies from the 
statues, which are colder and harder than the mar- 
ble itself; and who fill spaces of canvas with re- 
presentations that are utterly uninteresting to any 
human being whatever, — evincing neither senti- 
ment nor resemblance, — being neither lofty nor fa- 



226 

miliar, — neither gratifying common feelings, not- 
inspiring any tiling beyond them. As they are 
uniformly trained according to one pedantick sys- 
tem, to which they all belong, so they are sup- 
ported, not in a natural way, but by the immediate 
interference of the government. They are not 
left to produce, by their powers, corresponding 
sympathies in the publick breast, leading to the en- 
couragement of their labours; but the summary 
Tvay of employing them and paying them by au- 
thority is had recourse to, — moreover, they have 
lodgings found them in the Sorbonne, — and thus, 
without the liberality of feeling of individuals being 
in any way appealed to, or, in fact, doing any 
thing worth speaking of, to nourish art, the French 
brag of their tas.te, of their patronage of genius, 
and the splendour of its productions among them. 
In England, the thing is left to take a simpler and 
more independent course. The state of the pub- 
lick mind is permitted fairly to shew itself, and the 
powers of the artists are left to maintain them- 
selves. These, as the general rule, should be al- 
lowed to act and re-act on each other : — if it be 
regarded as one of the regular functions of the go- 
vernment to support art, a kind of art is sure to be 
supported, which is not worth its expense. 

It is very true, that the greatest intellects and 
most penetrating imaginations, are most sensible 
of the importance of study, and of the necessity of 
looking closely to the merit th^t has preceded 
them in their own line. But study may be either 
the si2;n or the substitute of native feeling : in the 
former case only will it lead to any worthy result. 
I would contend thnt these vast collections, which 
are inseparably connected with the dogmas of 
standard awards, and which etiftble peoj)le to talk 
ap4 QriUcise, without its^ being first necessary to 



22r 

andcrstand or to feel, — are precisely calculated to 
put 8iudy in the place of sensibility. Nor is it 
perhaps their worst tendency to enable the mere 
trained pedant to arrogate beyond his title. It is 
the hackneyed complaint that England is without 
a fine pubiick collection, — and she is so : — it hap- 
pens however, that with all the faults of her art, it 
is more distinguished than thcit of any other coun- 
try, or period since ihe days when there were few 
or no great pubiick collections, by the vigour of 
individual humour, the deep impression of particu- 
lar character, ami the reality of acute observation 
appearing on the face of its productions, and ho- 
nourably distinguishing them from the cold and 
laboured effects of academical discipline, forming 
a monotonous manner, and mediocre standard. It 
is always safest that the student should be left to 
search out forhimself the means of study — provided 
they are not put quite beyond his reach- There 
is not, probably, any circumstance that would ren- 
der abortive the workings of genius, or overwhelm 
its powers; — but it may be safely said, that genius 
has more to struggle with in these days of aids and 
rules, than it had in former times, when it was left 
to choose and effect in its own spirit and strength. 
The medium state between the absence of models, 
and their elevation above original conceptions, 
seems to be that which is best calculated to pro- 
duce noble works, in an art, the perfection of which 
is to be found in an union of dexterity, judgment, 
and imagination. 

But all argument is rendered unnecessary by 
the proof afforded us in the modern French art, 
which has grown up under the influence of the 
great collection in the Louvre. It shews the de- 
plorable effects of studying a manner in preference 
to cherishing a spirit : it shews, that the weakness 



228 

©f the human mind will not admit that sedulous 
attention shall be given to what is little and subor- 
dinate, without losing the perception of what is 
great and principal : it shews that, inasmuch as 
meditative observation seldom exists where there 
are numbers, and variety, and daily intercourse, a 
large collection is by no means so useful as dif- 
fused specimens, even admitting to models and 
means of study their highest claims. It is proper 
that it should be stated broadly, for it can be proved, 
that the taste of the French in fine art is as bad as 
their taste in poetry, — and that their practice is 
consequently bad. This is speaking of their gene- 
ral style, — some exceptions may be found in indi- 
viduals. 

The present opportunity seems a fit one for 
repelling those aspersions against England, as 
utterly barbarous in taste and talent for the arts, 
which, with a culpable indifference, have been 
permitted to pass uncontradicted from the mouths 
of our self-sufficient neighbours to the rest of the 
world. The assertion will be found easier made 
than proved. Of paintings, England is supposed 
to possess as fine a collection as any in the world; 
but then she preserves them in the retirement of 
her private families, where they have been gather- 
ed under the influence of a real feeling, and t)y 
whom they have been acquired in a regular and 
honest way. The strong sense of individual inde- 
pendence and domestick reserve, which belongs to 
the national character, and which one would not, 
wish to see forfeited for the sake of a little more 
national decoration, has kept these treasures in the 
back ground, kindling only the fervour of private 
devotion, and administering only to an unaffected 
delight. It is well observed by the author of two 
volumes of " Travels in France^'' lately published, 



229 

that Frenchmen " do not seem to understand why 
a man should ever be either ashamed or unwilling 
to disclose any thing that passes in his mind ;— 
they often suspect their neighbours of expressing 
sentiments which they do not feel, but have no 
idea of giving them credit for feelings which they 
do not express."— Tliis at once explains much of 
that stupid defamation which has been directed 
against England by foreigners, and which has been 
chimed in with by some amongst ourselves, who 
have thus tried to be thought advanced in refine- 
ment beyond their country. 

It certainly happened that England was not 
among the earliest to distinguish herself in Fine 
Art : — we must derive some consolation under the 
reproach of this, from the circumstance that reli- 
gion was reformed of its worst and most absurd 
superstitions, and political tyranny was checked 
and controlled among us, for some hundred of 
years before any of our neighbours stirred in these 
publick undertakings, which are surely not quite 
insignificant. Literature, being essential to the 
deliverance of the human mind, and the elevation 
of human feelings, was always sedulously attend- 
ed to in England, and in regard to it she has no 
reason to blush either for her want of taste or want 
of power. Painting and Sculpture ceriJiinly lag- 
ged behind : — it would be easy enough to account 
for their lateness in a way that would rather prove 
it to reflect credit than dishonour on the mind of 
the people ; but it is not m cessary to say any thing 
invidious of two elegant arts. When the accom- 
plishment of great publick duties, involving gallant 
enterprises, had afforded a fair opportunity for re- 
laxation, — when the process of thougVttfid inquiry, 
and the firry trials of conflict and disr;i5t:aion, had 
issued in the settlement of a substantial fabrick of 

21 



230 

publick strength, freedom, and opulence, wlieiiv 
the useful having been pretty generally attained, 
the merely agreeable might be safely cultivated, — • 
England evinced neither a want of taste or talent 
for elegant imitations. Reynolds, Hogarth, and 
Wilson, are names which suggest high degrees 
(some of them the highest) of almost all the variety 
of excellence belonging to painting. 

London is certainly deficient in the elegancies 
of architecture : though less so than common re- 
port declares, in consequence of the little parade 
that is made here of any thing we have. Our pa- 
laces are very mean and clumsy : and as these are 
the first objects to which a foreigner looks, he sel- 
dom looks beyond them, being satisfied that they 
would be elegant if any of our buildings were so. 
But he ill understands England : — he must turn to 
what has been done by private wealth or popular 
spirit, — by commercial prosperity or publick cha- 
rity, for her most magnificent displays : — her so- 
vereigns have seldom had it in their power to build 
even a cottage, but subject to the severest ques- 
tioning. The point to be settled is, which is most 
honourable to a country'*s taste^ to say nothing of 
its general character; — the enjoyment of publick 
liberty, exercising a control over the authorities 
of the state, — or the erection of such beautiful 
palaces, as those which the Bourbons gave to their 
mistresses. 

Referring again to the collection in the Louvre, 
it ought to be noticed, that many of the finest pic- 
lures there, were utterly destroj'ed by being in that 
saliery. No cruelty of violation can be imagined, 
which hns not been perpetrated in the formation of 
^lis collcctioii, and scarcely an injury to its objects 
wiiich they have not sustained, as the price of the 
lionour of gtaudiufr in P^iris rather than in Rome or 



231 

in Florence. The pictures which Rubeas painted 
for the churches of his favourite town, and adapted 
to the lights of the situations which he himself se- 
lected, were taken and hung up in the narrow gal- 
lery of a French palace, where, if they were ad- 
mired by any one, it was by faith and not by sight. 
— The Venus which presided in the majesty of 
her loveliness in Italy, which struck a solemn fee!- 
ing of admiraiion into every breast that approach- 
ed her single shrine, was sought out with trouble, 
and foinid with difficult}'', among the numbers of ii 
long Parisian catalogue. When at last observed, 
Vi^hat could be thought of her, amidst such a con- 
gregation of busts, and pillars, and colossal statues, 
but that she was smaller tlian life, and had been 
injured in the carriage. Not six feet otf, and over- 
whelming her by its neighbourhood, stood the 
group of the Laocoon, and at a few yards distance 
was the Apollo! Each of these had before held an 
undivided empire, and drew wise men to worship 
them in their sacred recesses. But in Paris they 
i-vere but as feeble auxiliaries to the Champa1<>;n of 
Beauvilliers, and the profiigacies of the Palais 
Royal : they were included in the guides to tlie 
amusements of this gross city, along with the ^da- 
rionettes^ and the exhibition of a living hermaphro- 
dite. Thus have objects, that formerly gave a 
fame and attraction to a number of towns and spots 
of Europe; — which stood singly, or in small collec- 
tions, f.istp.ied to their places by all that men 
knew of the past, or feit 'i£*v the present, — which had 
connected themselves with the foundations of }>ro- 
perty, as well as with all received and cherished 
recollections and associations, — been violently toni 
away, packed up, and crowded together, to fill long 
tawdry halls, to give employment to a tribe of 
cleaners, keepers, and porters, and conversation to 



232 

the mob of the most heartless city in the world. 
Surely the counlr}^ to which Milton made a poet- 
ical i'ilgrimage, should not be rendered bare of its 
curioshies ynd beauties, for the sake of a land 
which has given models chiefly to dancing masters, 
cooks, and tailors; which has never meddled with 
any thing fine but to debase it, and never professed 
a jt«st principle but to the disgrace of its own prac- 
tice. 

Each nation being now in possession of its 
own treasures of this description, — and their value 
being fully imuressed on the publick mind, by the 
noise that has been made about them, we are now 
more likely to see good effects result from their 
sludy and contemplation, than when they were al- 
together in the keeping of the French, who cor- 
rupted and weakened their influence by low prac- 
tice and pernicious maxims. 

Something has been said in favour of France, 
because she has always oj^ened her exhibitions very 
freely, and given every accommodation to those 
wiio visited them for the purposes of pleasure or of 
improvement. More disgrace ought to attach to 
those that are deficient in this courtesy and wis- 
dom, than credit to her for acting as she did. Her 
collections, be it remembered, were the offspring of 
her publick policy,' — not the signs of her genuine 
feeling. Her system, therefore, required that they 
should be unboundedly displayed. She amassed 
them for external effect more than for internal en- 
joyment; she could no more think of restricting 
their exhibition than a lady could think of keeping 
her ribboas in the mystery of her cabinet. Bui, aia 
England is miserably and most impolitically chur- 
lish in regard to what she possesses, as publick 
property, of the curious and the beautiful, she de- 
serves severe reprehension. It is to be hoped, that^ 



233 

as the stir encreases on this subject, sounder notions 
will spread, and all cause for blame be removed bj 
a more liberal course of management. 

The moral and political justice of these restora- 
tions, it might have been supposed, could not have 
suggested itself as doubtful. Attention to the claims 
made bj' the smaller and weaker states to receive 
back their property of this description, seems to 
belong to the general purpose of the Alliance, which 
was to break up the French system of forcible spo- 
liation, and restore the relative importance, and 
natural independence, of European states. 

No calamity attending French invasion was so 
much deplored, as these rapes : the Grand Duke of 
Parma offered a million of francs to be permitted to 
keep one of the finest works of Corregio, and when 
the robbers refused his offer, saying that it was 
worth more than twenty millions, as calculated to 
inspire the French mind with the love of "glory," 
he caused a black marble to be inserted where the 
picture was formerly hung, to attest his grief. The 
anxiety shewn to procure the restitution of the works 
of arl is the finest tribute that could be paid to the 
genius of their authors,— and, by proving the value 
attached to the possession of them, forms a strong 
reason for their being replaced. As to saying that 
France held some of them by treaty, what is that to 
the purpose, when it is known that she held Spain, 
and Italy, and the Netherlands, and Holland by 
treaty ? Her plan of putting the language of agree- 
ment and aj)probatiou into the mouths of her vic- 
tims, is what chiefly raises the indignation of manly 
natures against her. Her slaves were made to bless 
her for the cudgelling they received at her hands,— = 
and to record that it was by their own free consent 
that she enriched herself with their property. But 
much of the spoliation collected in Paris was meye 
21* 



234 

seizure, in utter carelessness of all forms.^ It was said, 
when the territory of a formerly independent state 
became French, that France had a right to take 
from its towns what she pleased : — thus a second 
wrong was justified by the first. But the infamous 
nature of this pretence becomes most apparent, 
when it is considered, that the property of- particu- 
lar towns and places in the \\orks of fine art, had 
not usually been disturbed, evdn by their national 
governments. It was never before thought a regu- 
lar or Just thing to enrich the collection of the 
capital at the expense of every church and gallery 
throughout the dominions :— on the contrary, the 
pride of cities, districts, and provinces in their an- 
cient inheritances, and modern performances, was 
respected,— the benefit of their exhibition was left 
to them, — and the patriotick attachments, thus fos- 
tered, were found of signal use in causing a general 
gravitating tendency towards the centre of the state. 
It is by a combination of small orbits, that the 
steadiness and order of a large system is produced. 
The French urged that it was unjust to strip 
them on the second visit of the Allies to their capi- 
tal, because they had been left in full possession 
of their spoils when Paris first fell into the hands of 
the foreign armies. Their most plausible argument 
to illustrate this position was, that, on the second 
occasion, the Allies Came professedly as the friends 
of the King of France, and even as the friends of 
the nation, which by no means identified itself with 
the enterprise of Buonaparte. The answer, how- 
ever, is easily given. The plundered works of art 
were not left as belonging of right to the French 
nation ; nor — (and it is material to observe this) — 
were they so unequivocally and fully left as is pre- 
tended. Prussia stipulated wHh the King's gov- 
« n^ment. In 1814, that her property should be re^ 



235 

stored, and, if the engagement was not kept, France 
surely ought not to derive a right from her wrong. 
If Prussia did not quarrel with her on this score, it 
only shews that France was treated with more for- 
bearance than she had ever shewn. 

Most of the other powers, it is true, consented, 
that, as a pledge of union and forgetfulness of the 
past, the French nation should retain its trophies. 
This was an instance of great generosity, — but it 
had a distinct and understood object. It was to 
reconcile and attach all classes of the nation, — and 
most particularly the army, — to the restored gov- 
ernment, by enabling them to regard it unconnect- 
edly with circumstances of humiliation. In fact, it 
was. to shew, that no disposition w^as entertained, in 
any quarter, to reduce France below the standard 
of a great and even a glorious state, while she gave 
proofs that her greatness and her glory were kept 
in harmony with the rights of mankind and the 
safety of the world. 

But the attempt failed of success ; and, whether 
the French people were, or were not, participators 
in the scheme that again threw Europe into confu- 
sion, the result was the same, and the end of leaving 
the trophies was disappointed. As no right to 
them had ever been acknowledged to rest in France, 
— or rather as the pretence to this right had always 
been denied and opposed, — it remained fairly with 
the Allies to retract their indulgence in consequence 
of their experience of its inutility. 

Further, however, it was pretty certain, that the 
intended remedy had an influence to increase the 
disease. The favour shewn to France was attri- 
buted to the fears of her enemies, — and the bad 
propensities and fiery passions of the factious and 
selfish, were stimulated and kept in play by the 
presence of the memorials of the days of her ag- 



236 

gressions. The dangerous classes of her people 
were nourished in their vicious dispositions by the 
trophies of their violence, — and these supplied a 
hurtful excitement to the publick mind. The inso- 
lence with which they bore themselves towards the 
indulgence which had been shewn to them, render- 
ed it necessary, not as a matter of pique, but of strict 
justice and prudence, that the second lesson should 
be given the other way, and a deep conviction be 
forced on all the parties of France, that punishment 
is sure to follow provocation, — that the days are 
over when war was always a safe game for France 
to play, and that what is due to good neighbourhood 
may be enforced from her weakness, if it is not to 
be found in her disposition. As to the pretensions 
rested on the terms of the convention of Paris, the 
Duke of Wellington's letter, which is a publick 
document, completely refutes them. He states that 
it was distinctly refused to the commissioners' re* 
quest, that France should be secured in the posses- 
sion of the property in the Louvre. 



237 



CHAPTER XI. 

The political temper and condition of France, 
afford but little thai is encouraging or even certain. 
The degradation of a people cannot be contem- 
plated with any satisfaction, but as a measure due 
to the general safety, or likely to lead to the refor- 
mation of the suffering party As far as relates to 
the security of the Continent, the first end seems 
to have been for the present entirely attained, — 
but the duration of the blessings of tranquillity is 
confessedly acknowledged to have a material de- 
pendence on the settlement of the French people 
into contented feelings, and a comfortable condi- 
tion.^ — That this desirable event is in progress may- 
be possible, — but assuredly it has not yet happen- 
ed, and there are many perplexing circumstances 
to interfere with our hopes, and leave us at a loss 
in the midst of our deductions. 

I have considered the severities inflicted on 
France as necessary, and therefore justifiable ; but 
their immediate effect has been to kindle the irri- 
tation of party, and diffuse misery among the peo- 
ple. These causes, operating on a light, ill-inform- 
ed, inflammably-constituted publick mind,^com- 
pletely unfit it for acquiring, what it so much wants 
in these times of restored governments and pro- 
posed constitutions, — viz. rational views of its 
duties in connexion with its rights, — and a convic-* 
tion of the strength, which the claims of the latter 
can derive from an honest observance of the obli- 
gations of the former. 

It has already been noted in this work, that the 
deadliest misfortune of France, is the training 



238 

which he received under her late ruler, to render 
her fit for his purposes. This has detached the in- 
terests of a large part of her population from the 
welfare of their fellow men, — it has left them with- 
out taste for virtue, or hope in peace, — and it has 
generally corrupted the principles of the mass. 
Coming, as he did, when the nation was wearied 
and terrified with the bloody scenes of the revolu- 
tion, he found the people inclined to submit to any 
power that could maintain itself, and would afford 
safety to their persons. Of this principle of sub- 
mission, and of the aptitude of the nation to be 
intoxicated with itself, he took advantage to de- 
bauch the general feeling and pervert the publick 
habits, — until at last glory was in every one's 
mouth, and honesty in no one's. lie continued 
the process, — opposing splendour to refinement and 
boasting to worth. — Herodotus tells of a king, who 
built a great monument by the gain of his daugh- 
ter's prostitution, and this was the system of Buo- 
naparte in regard to the French nation. 

His reverses, and the extremity to which he had 
reduced them, inclined them to pass over to the go- 
vernment that was found agreeable to the wishes of 
their conquerors, and which was permitted to nego- 
ciate for Ihera better terms than they could have 
demanded in their exhausted condition. This was 
an alteration, upon the whole, certainly for the 
better, — but there were considerable alloys of the 
good, and much to impede and counteract its ten- 
dencies. The king's government came in too much 
on the strength of an old title, — which was neither 
generally acknowledged by the nation in point of 
fact, nor very worthy of being so. It should have 
conceded more to the temper of the time, and the 
claims of sound principle, by chiefly resting its 
re-eievation on the foundation of popular choice, 
and considering its inheritance as only valid, so 



239 

far as it was sanctioned by (he former. But it re- 
versed this ; and regarded the principle of autho- 
rity as vested in itseif, — conceding certain modifi- 
cations and abatements of the original royal pre- 
rogative, as of its own indulgence, rather than as a 
debt due to the right of the subject to stipulate for 
the form of h-is government. 

This was a great errour, — -but, injustice, it should 
be said, that the constitution granted by Louis the 
X Vnith, established a limited monarchy in France; 
and, after it was passed into law, the liberties of 
the people w,ere better guarded and respected, both 
in the spirit and the practice of the government, 
than they ever had been before, unless, perhaps, 
in the first stage of the revolution, when I^ouis the 
XVIth was willingly acting with the wishes of the 
Elation. 

It was easy to see, that there vf ere many imper- 
fections in the Bourbon constitution ; and that it 
was by no means what a sensible, determined peo- 
ple would remain contented with, as establishing 
a just degree of publick freedom. But it required 
^ good deal of confidence to say, that the fault was 
all on the side of the government. The French 
people, whatever may be pretended to the contrary, 
are in a state of great ignorance, — -and this leaves 
them in a condition to be practised upon for ^ny 
factious purpose. The grossest absurdities will be 
believed by them, if recommended by what flatters 
their vanity, or seems to address their interests. It 
is too much to decide at once that the unlimited 
liberty of the press was desirable for a people of 
this description, and ought to have been instituted 
amongst them on the instant of their rising from 
the depths of slavish submission, in which they had 
been' sunk for twelve yeivrs, under the weight of Im- 
«|:>enal tyranny. 



240 

The despotism in question had naturally many 
friends of influence remaining,; — and almost the 
whole of the military were known to be in its fa- 
vour, from motives the most opposed to those 
which are calculated for a free state. But the cant 
of liberty might have been used by infuriated and 
unprincipled men, if the means of appeal to the 
publick opinion had been left as open, as they 
ought to be in more matured and settled states of 
society. 

Of all the accusations brought against the Bour- 
bon government, that of attempting to restore the 
reign of bigotry and superstition, has been most 
eagerly listened to in England, and has excited the 
greatest prejudice against the family. It is to be 
remembered, however, that the decay of religion in 
France has been deemed the most fatal and dis- 
gusting symptom of her condition ; the hideous 
source of the mischiefs she has committed, and the 
miseries she has suffered, — and that it has been 
said she could give no security for preserving 
publick faith until there appeared in her domestick 
condition a renovation in this particular. The 
religion of France before the revolution was the 
Catholick religion, — nd whatever remained to her 
after the Revolution was chiefly the Catholick reli- 
gion. It includes ceremonies and priests, rather 
more pompously displayed than our own, but of the 
same family, — and if the King was to endeavour to 
restore religion in France, he could not be expect- 
ed totally to abolish processions and expel priests. 
There was a provision in the constitution for the 
toleration of sectaries ; and while, in point of fact, 
Protestants, in great numbers, are settled in France, 
— while they have their preachers and places of 
worship, — while the reguiar clergy continue desti- 
tute of rich endowments, and degraded in the con- 



241 

sequence of their characters— the reign of bigotry 
in France can never be what it was, — iior cas mere 
be rationally much tear entertained ot ialliug ; • ck 
into the superstitious follies and severities uf ihe 
dark ages. Tlie disturbances in the south of France, 
of which we have recently heard so much, have, 
beyond a doubt, been greatly exaggerated, and 
materially misrepresented as wholly religious when 
they have been chiefly political. In this quarter 
the tire of political discord has always been alive; 
and parties have always here had a desperate 
struggle for the upper hand, at every revolution 
of publick aft'airs that has occurred in France. 

A scanty portion of liberty, therefore, — but suf- 
ficient, as it would seem, to serve as seed for future 
abundance, I consider to have been established in 
that country by the restoration of the Bourbons : 
and surely no violation of the principles of popular 
rights, that was connected with their return, ought 
to be considered so odious or so dangerous as the 
general profligacy of the Imperial system, which 
was founded in gross apostacy from freedom, — the 
existence of which was utterly irreconcilable with, 
independent sentiment,—- that acknowledged in no- 
thing a right sacred from the interfertnce of its 
power, — and that drew its growth from the raiik= 
iiess of corruption, moral, political, and personal. 

1 have discussed in a previous chapter, the feel- 
ing with which Buonaparte's last enteqa-ise was 
regarded. The nation shewed no strength of at- 
tachment to the Ifourbons,— but as the visitor from 
Elba had not been desired by the people, so he did 
Dot receive what can fairly be called popular support. 
The army joined him on the principle that full pay 
is better than half pay, and the chance of promotion 
than the certainty of reduction. 

His fall this time, seems tinal, — and so far the 
Bourbons are relieved from a danger :— but it may 

22 



242 

be questioned whether the course of things was not 
procee(iing, on the whole, better for them, and for 
the cause of improvement in France, before Buona- 
parte made his second appearance. The passions 
of parties have now been kindled with increased 
violence; — uUra-royalism^ as it is called, has raised 
its monstrous head, — professing to' see in the last 
disturbance the necessity forgiving a stronger hand 
to authority, and for its holding a higher language 
of prerogative. The punishments of some of those 
most active in the revolt, of necessity followed the 
return of the King, — though nothing, in the shape 
of a plan of punishment, could well be more mild 
than that .which the royal administration chalked 
out. But in these collisions, and exercises of royal 
authority, they, whose interests are connected with 
the foundations of the Revolution, see ground for 
alarm, — and the general want of political informa- 
tion, and the demoralized state of the publick cha- 
racter, render it impossible for the King, whose 
inclinations and principles are decidedly moderate^ 
to reckon on a substantial support, supplied from 
the sense of his subjects, which would enable him 
to resist the zealotry of the friends of arbitrary usa?- 
ges, without incurring danger from the opposite 
side of disappointed anarchists. 

That the Allies would have n^ude a very dan- 
gerous experiment by trusting to the peaceable and 
virtuous professions of Buonaparte, when he was 
Emperour for the second time, will be allowed by 
most people. I am inclined t(f think that they 
acted very wisely and justly in disregarding them, 
• — for it seems that no well-informed Frenchman, 
even of those about his person, deemed that he hj^d 
any sincere intention in what he declared in favour 
of a liberally constructed government. This being 
the case,^ — and the alterations made by him in the 
Bourbon constitution, being, on the whole, in a des^ 
potick spirit, — the world was imminently threatened 



243 

"with a renewal of all his old perfidies and violations. 
The army was as much devoted to him as ever, 
and would have done his bidding as readily. Muoy 
of the old republicans had become tainted in his 
despotick school, and had fallen in love with tiiJes 
and rich appointments. The nation stood in awe, 
even to infatuation of his personal influence, — and 
had not improved in any one quality, since his ban- 
ishment, which would have been of use to them in 
opposing his encroachments. His marshals were 
professionally indifferent about civil liberty, — or 
rather, in their interests as military men, hostile to 
it. It is difficult, therefore, to understand on what 
ground it has been argued, that it was very uolikely 
that Buonaparte, if established as Emperour for the 
second time, could have backslided from his en- 
gagements. That he would have done so is most 
probable, — for the spirited manner in which, the 
House of Representatives forced upon him his se- 
cond abdication, is to be traced to the circumstances 
of distress in which he was then placed, and shews 
only their distrust of the man. 

His removal, I repeat, was indispensable as an 
example and a security, — but the means employed, 
and their consequences, demand vigilance, and 
even suggest anxiety. France, through her own 
vices and ignorance chiefly, has left herself at the 
mercy of mere authority : rulers have been accus- 
tomed to contemplate the exercise of pov^er in its 
most absolute shape — and they have found what 
they can do in combination. On the other hand, 
it seems evident, that in general, they see the pru- 
dence of softening down the harsher features of the 
old political institutions of Europe, and of, in some 
degree, incorporating publick sentiment among the 
forces of government. They have felt and acknow- 
ledged, that the popular spirit was the soul of their 
cause in the hour of its trial,— -and there are signs 
abroad which give little short of an assurance that 
this spirit must still continue to be respected* 



244 



111 conclusion, the writer would justify the gene- 
ral huii of bis political views as expressed through- 
out this work, by a repetition of his conviction, that 
the cause of liberty is en the gromth in the fvorld ; 
- — and that, though the hopes of society may still be 
encomj)assed with dangers, yet that the greatest 
danger has been escaped, — viz. that of wandering 
from the f>ath of real improvement, in the fatal mis- 
take of following an ignis fatuus for a light of the 
time. Slowness may be quickened into activity ; 
a stoppage may be goaded into an. advance ; even 
a retrograde motion still leaves the right line in 
view : — but if mankind had^jplunged with confidence 
and joy into the way that falseh^ promised to lead 
unto life, their progress would have caused one evil 
and errour to succeed to another, and return would 
have been prevented by a Circean intoxication of 
fai'Ailty and poisonous corruption of heart. Every 
thing genuine, cordial, and good, would then have 
been killed or depraved, io the deluge of that abo- 
minable style of acting and thinking to which Buo- 
naparte has formed the publick character of present 
France. According to ibis, fine words are substi- 
tutes for tine feelings, loud boastings for excellent 
qualities, and the cant and counterfeit of taste and 
morality are employed to beguile the consciousness 
of the multitude, while the people are made the 
instruments and dupes of a system essentially sa- 
vage, coarse, and guilty. — But from this danger 
mankind have been relieved : — they m^j not, it is 
true, now seem to proceed so rapidly towards all 
that is desiral)le in condition as some of zealous 
temperaments may wish ; but most of those, who 
complain of tardiness, would shew themselves more 
worthy of tlje cause they profess, if they were to 
discover a due sense of joy that the world has 
escaped from death. 

THE END. 










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